


Jonsa Drabbles - Part 2

by annabeth_writes



Series: Jonsa Drabbles [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, and listing them all makes my eye twitch, except noncon and dubcon, once again I don't fuck with that, so just imagine all the things, there are too many individual tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 48,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: The second installment of Jon x Sansa drabbles that I've written, dating back to 2014.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770151
Comments: 169
Kudos: 200





	1. Canon AU - Betrayed

Sansa bit down on her lower lip, swallowing the words that were on the tip of her tongue. She concentrated on her sewing, trying not to be too aware of Jon’s presence only a short distance away from her. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound that filled the room, apart from their own breathing. Chancing a look his way, Sansa noticed that Jon was staring off into space, barely looking like he was aware of where he was.

“She spoke to you.”

His voice took her by surprise and Sansa looked away abruptly, wondering if he knew that she was looking.

“My aunt, she spoke to you?”

This time it was a question that she knew she could not ignore. Sansa took a deep breath, setting her sewing aside before lifting her head.

“She did,” she nodded, meeting his eyes.

It was a vain wish, but she hoped that he might stop there instead of asking exactly what was said. Jon simply gave her a look, making it clear that he wanted to know what they discussed.

“The queen is concerned for you. She thinks that you have been through quite a bit in the last few years and she made it clear that she has advised you to entrust someone with your worries,” Sansa continued, keeping her voice steady.

Jon huffed out a sigh, shaking his head.

“We’re all young and we’ve all been through a lot in our lives," he said, his frustration growing as he spoke.

Sansa rose to her feet, walking a small table to pour two cups of wine. She did not speak again before crossing the room to his side. Jon took the wine willingly, taking a long drink.

“Daenerys has found a trusted companion in her handmaiden. Missandei helps her cope,” she reminded him.

Jon turned to look up at her, a shadowed look in his eyes.

“Who helps you?” he asked.

Sansa simply gave him a sad smile, lifting her hand to brush the curls away from his forehead.

“What happened before you left the Night’s Watch?”

Jon hesitated before reaching up to take her hand in his, entwining their fingers. He stared into the fire as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I was betrayed,” he admitted.

Sansa nodded, knowing that much.

“By your brothers,” she said, stroking the fingers of her free hand through his hair.

It seemed to relax him as he described what happened, from the mutiny to him waking up after Melisandre of Asshai completed a ritual to bring him back from where he warged into Ghost's body.

“The Red Woman had this look in her eye, like she was about to fall to her knees and start worshipping me. I didn’t like it. I liked it even less when she started calling me something,” Jon said, shaking his head.

“Azor Ahai,” Sansa whispered, leaning down to kiss his head softly.

He let out a short laugh.

“Yes, that."

Sansa took a deep breath before relieving him of his almost empty cup. She set both cups aside before kneeling down in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers.

“I don’t care what happened while you were in the North. I don’t care about the Night’s Watch or the Free Folk. I don’t care about your resurrection or the flaming sword you carried. To me, you will always be Jon Snow, the shy boy who let me teach him how to talk to girls,” Sansa assured him, squeezing his hands gently.

If she ever doubted that her words were the right ones, the shine in his eyes told her everything that she needed to know.

“Sansa,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

She leaned her head into his hand, letting a smile tug at the corners of her lips.

“That’s a pretty name."

Sansa let out a laugh, straightening up slightly before throwing her arms around his shoulders. Jon tugged her down, causing a flush to rise to her cheeks when she ended up sitting on his lap. His lips found hers, coaxing her into a gentle kiss. She let out a soft sigh, curling her hand over his cheek. It was unlike any of the kisses that she’d ever experienced. Joffrey’s were rough, Marillion’s were invasive, and Petyr’s were sickening. But Jon was sweet, the barest touch of his lips making warm shivers run through her entire body. He held her close once they broke away, cradling her head against his shoulder as she closed her eyes and smiled slightly.

“Brave and gentle and strong,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Jon said curiously.

“Just something that I heard once, that I should have a man who is brave and gentle and strong,” Sansa replied.

Jon didn’t say anything for several moments.

“Sounds like a wise person,” he acknowledged.

She nodded in agreement.

“He really was.”

Silence fell over them for a few minutes before Sansa began telling Jon about her time in King’s Landing.

“You don’t have to,” he said, interrupting her as she reached the part where Cersei demanded Lady’s death.

“I want to,” Sansa assured him.

After that he remained quiet, allowing her to tell him everything. With every word that she spoke, Sansa felt a weight lifting off of her shoulders and could only hope that he felt the same when he spoke to her.


	2. Canon AU - Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sansa gets pregnant while they are betrothed, several people ask that she be put aside. Sansa becomes frightened that Jon will give in to the pressure, until Jon reassures her.

Try as she might, and Sansa had tried very hard, she could not keep the tears from falling. Maester Samwell assured her that it was entirely normal when he confirmed the pregnancy but that hardly made her feel better.

“Please, my lady, you must rest,” one of her ladies urged.

Sansa brushed her off, waving her hand in a silent dismissal before turning to stare out the window. Her bedchamber had a perfect view of the courtyard so that she could see the people bustling about as they took part in the daily happenings of the castle. A shudder went through her as she remembered the whispers she heard in the gardens.

_“The council is urging him to take a new bride.”_

_“Surely he will not marry her now, even if the child is his.”_

A lump rose in her throat as she saw a familiar figure crossing the courtyard. Jon’s crown was askew and every step resonated with fury. Sansa gripped at the windowpane, swaying on the spot for a moment. A chorus of “My lady!” went up as her ladies hurried towards her. Sansa shook her head, turning away from the window.

“Leave me,” she instructed, walking towards her bed on unsteady feet.

They all hesitated before drifting out one-by-one at her stern expression. Sansa sat on her bed, leaning back against the abundant pillows with a heavy sigh. She pressed one hand to her forehead and laid the other over her abdomen. Sansa knew that she only had to wait. Sure enough, a door banged open in her outer chamber just moments before Jon walked into the bedchamber. His dark eyes took in her exhausted form as well as the placement of her hand and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stepped further into the room.

“It’s true,” he said quietly.

Sansa nodded once, tears welling in her eyes yet again.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, turning her face into one of the pillows.

Jon was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his chest as he whispered soothing words to her. He stroked her hair gently as she clutched at his tunic.

“Please do not set me aside!” Sansa pleaded, pulling away to look into his eyes. “Please, I know that everyone is telling you to but I am begging you not to…”

He shushed her, shaking his head as he put a finger over her lips.

“I am not doing anything of the sort,” Jon assured her, fury flashing in his eyes once more.

Sansa sobbed out his name as she realized that it was not her that she was angry with, but the men who advised him.

“Please don’t cry, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing her tears away. “I’m not angry with you.”

Jon reached down, brushing his hand over her abdomen through the thin dressing gown that she wore.

“This is not a bad thing and I refuse to let anyone make you think so. I love you and you love me. This is proof of that and when our child is born, we will spend every day making sure that he or she knows that.”

Sansa let out a teary laugh, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

“We may have to wed sooner rather than later,” she whispered against his lips, pulling away slightly to gauge his reaction.

Jon smirked at her, looking as though he just got exactly what he wanted.

“Then let’s go to the godswood right now. I’ll grab a septon, you get a few witnesses, we’ll be wed before the sun sets."

Sansa let out another laugh as she hugged him tightly, thanking the gods that she had been given such a man who was everything that she needed.


	3. Canon AU - Newly Wedded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look at me - just breathe, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar Wins AU
> 
> Warnings: Smutty smut.

Jon didn’t blame her for being frightened. They’d been betrothed for years but despite the fact that Sansa was his cousin, he could count their face-to-face encounters on one hand and each occasion took place when they were too young to know better. Her family was there and apart from the ceremony in Baelor’s Sept and the allotted time that she had to spend at his side during the banquet, Sansa stuck to her older brother’s side like a frightened lamb. Jon knew Robb much better, having spent quite a bit of time with him when the eldest Stark child fostered for a few years in King’s Landing. When Margaery Tyrell, Robb’s wife, pulled Sansa into a corner and began talking to her in hushed tones, Jon fit himself in the shadows where he often preferred to be.

“She hates me,” he muttered once his older brother found him with ease.

“She’s terrified,” Aegon corrected him, handing over a cup of wine.

Jon shook his head, taking a long drink.

“That’s exactly what I want my new wife to be on our wedding night."

“You don’t understand, Jon. Women in the North aren’t the same as in the South. My new good-sister has only ever been taught by a septa. Trust me, all she’s been told about the wedding night is to lay back and let you do what you will.”

Jon flushed at the thought of it, though he also felt horrified.

“I think it’s about time to thank the gods that I wasn’t educated by a septa,” he said under his breath.

Aegon let out a laugh and thumped his back.

“Just take care of her, little brother,” he said, turning to walk away.

Amazingly enough, Aegon’s words did nothing at all to make him feel better. If there was anything that Jon was certain of, it was that a bedding would only make it all worse. When it came time, his protestations were drowned out by the raucous cheering of the men around him. To Jon’s relief, Robb and Aegon were at the middle of the group and they quickly hoisted his new wife onto their shoulders. He barely paid attention when the women of court surrounded him, allowing the clothes to be torn from his body without complaint. By the time he was deposited outside of her bedchamber, Jon only wore his smallclothes. He took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside the dimly lit room.

Sansa was sitting in the center of the bed, her fiery hair tumbling loosely about her shoulders and the furs pulled up to her chin to cover her unclothed body. She watched him with bright blue eyes that were wide in her face as he crossed the room. Jon saw her breathing quicken when he reached the bed. Inhaling deeply, he wondering how best to comfort her. As he carefully knelt next to her, Jon reached up to stroke a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Sansa trembled slightly, averting her eyes to stare at a spot on the wall.

“Sansa,” Jon said quietly, hoping that his voice was soothing.

She did not reply for several moments, forcing him to wonder if she was catatonic.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Sansa finally whispered.

He let out a sigh, dropping his hands to give her the choice that she needed.

“Please look at me,” Jon instructed, keeping his tone gentle.

Her eyes lifted, staring into his pleadingly.

“Just breathe, all right?”

Sansa nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“Good,” he praised softly.

A small smile twitched at her lips and he counted it as a triumph.

“I will do everything in my power not to hurt you,” Jon vowed in a steady voice. “I promise you that.”

Sansa swallowed hard before reaching out to brush her fingers over the back of his hand. He could tell that it was a brave action on her part and did not dare to move, letting her do what she wished.

“Margaery told me that it would hurt even if you were gentle,” she said in a small voice.

Jon sighed, knowing the same thing to be true. He had never shared a bed with a virgin, or with more than the one woman in truth. Dorne had been a diverting place and it came as no surprise to anyone when Jon found a paramour there. Of course he’d left her behind after a few months but the memories were some that he could look back on with a smile.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Sansa stared at him warily before nodding once. Jon smiled at her before leaning down to press his lips against hers. His hands ran through her long hair as he let the chaste kiss linger for a moment before deepening it. Sansa gasped when he nipped at her lower lip and her arms slid around his shoulders as his tongue swept into her mouth. The furs fell to her waist, leaving her top half bared to him. Jon started slowly, barely skimming his knuckles up her sides as she shivered at the touch. When she’d relaxed at the touch, he circled her navel lightly, stroking up her abdomen. Sansa arched towards him when his thumb brushed the underside of her soft breast.

“Lovely,” he breathed, pulling away from her.

Sansa flushed beneath his gaze, pressing her lips together firmly.

“Do I please you, my prince?” she asked quietly.

With any other woman, this would have been a coy question designed to seduce him further. With Sansa, he knew that she truly wanted to know whether he found her pleasing.

“More than I can even describe, my princess,” Jon replied.

This time, a true smile broke out upon her lips and he was certain that he’d never seen anyone look more radiant. When he circled her nipple with his thumb, her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ and her eyes widened.

“Jon,” she sighed, reaching up to brace her hands on his shoulders.

Never had a sound been so sweet. He leaned forward, unable to resist kissing her once more as he stroked and tweaked the hardened peak between his finger and thumb. The whimpers that were muffled by his lips made him harden even more in his smallclothes. Jon was determined to ignore that for now, focused on calming his nervous wife. He began kissed down her throat, gently pushing her back to lie on the pillows as his lips trailed over her smooth skin. By the time his mouth reached her chest, Jon nuzzled between her perfect breasts as her hands slid into his hair. He could only hope that Sansa was trembling for an entirely different reason now. One of her legs daringly hitched around his hip and her foot lightly stroked at the back of his thigh, making him shudder in response to the touch. A soft sound filled the air and he looked up with surprise to see Sansa gazing down at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth and mirth shining in her eyes.

“What?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

Sansa shook her head, smiling at him. Jon narrowed his eyes, pinching her side lightly as she squealed out a giggle and squirmed beneath him. It was an incredibly pleasing sight to behold.

“Tell me."

She looked at him hesitantly before speaking the most daring thing he’d heard out of her mouth.

“Or what?” Sansa asked quietly.

Jon lifted his eyebrow at her, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

“Are you sure you want to know that?” he asked challengingly.

Sansa nodded, slightly more eager than she had been before. Jon ducked his head, breathing lightly over her skin as she let out a shaking sigh at the feeling. Jon moved his head slightly, brushing his lips over her nipple as she let out a small cry. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he ghosted his tongue over the sensitive spot. Just as she tried to pull him closer, he pulled away to look up at her.

“Don’t stop,” Sansa whimpered.

He stroked his fingers over her soft belly, waiting for her to look down at him again. Once her eyes returned to him, he repeated the words.

“Tell me.”

Sansa looked at him shyly before opening her mouth to speak.

“When I touched you, it seemed as though you were pleased by it. That surprised me, as I did not expect to be able to do such a thing,” she admitted.

Jon tilted his head to the side, reaching up to run his fingers down her cheek.

“Does that please you?” he asked curiously.

Sansa nodded before she could help herself.

“I admit, it pleases me quite a bit.”

He felt warmth spreading through his chest at her confession. Jon gave her a heated look before bending his head down again, wrapping his lips around her nipple. Sansa gasped his name and arched her back as he flicked his tongue over it again and again. Then he gave the other the same attention, determined to be a fair lover. By the time he sat up, Sansa was lying back with a smile playing on her lips and a deep flush in her cheeks and chest. It was quite the vision, her red hair splayed across the pillows in contrast with her glowing skin.

“I think that every man in Westeros envies me this night,” Jon murmured.

Sansa caught his hand as he played with a lock of her hair, looking up at him.

“Why is that?” she questioned.

He smiled at her, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“Because there is no woman more beautiful than you in all of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon claimed with confidence.

Sansa beamed at him, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You are too kind, husband."

Jon felt a tug at his heart when she spoke such words.

“Does that please you to say?” he asked.

Sansa considered his question for a moment.

“It does,” she decided.

“It does the same for me, wife,” Jon said, smoothing his hands down her abdomen.

He tugged the furs down, inhaling sharply when he noticed that she was stripped of her smallclothes as well. Sansa watched as he stroked the tips of his fingers up her bare legs. The curls between her thighs were slightly darker than the hair atop her head. Jon nudged her legs apart and lowered himself down once more. Sansa gasped when his lips pressed to the inside of her knee. He gently applied his teeth to her soft skin and she let out a throaty noise that took him by surprise. The heady scent of her already filled his senses as he neared the apex of her thighs. Jon licked at the crease of her thigh before he parted her folds with sure fingers.

“What are you—?” she cut off as he stroked his thumb up the length of her.

A choked cry escaped from her lips and her hips lifted off of the bed when he rubbed at her sensitive nub.

“Gods that feels… _oh_ _Jon_ … gods…” Sansa panted, her hands twisting into the sheets beneath her.

He smiled slightly before leaning in to trace his tongue along her folds. She tasted even better than he had imagined and her whimper of his name only spurred him on. Jon knew that he should take it slow and let her get used to the feeling of his mouth on her but before he knew it, he was licking and sucking at her eagerly. His face was buried firmly between her thighs as she clutched at his hair and writhed beneath him. As he flit his tongue relentlessly over her clit, the intensity and volume of her moans increased. He momentarily wondered if she could be heard by any passing servants or nobles and the thought only made him smile against her.

“There’s something… Jon, I don’t know… something is happening,” Sansa sobbed out, tossing her head back and forth.

He hummed against her and sent her careening into her release. She almost wept out his name as his kisses slowed and became almost chaste against her. When she was far too sensitive for more, pushing lightly at his shoulders, he drew away and wiped his face with his hand, sitting back on his heels. Sansa looked utterly drained of pleasure, breathing heavily with closed eyes.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, rubbing gently at her thighs.

She nodded breathlessly, finally opening her eyes to look up at him with a dazed expression.

“I’ve never… I didn’t know,” Sansa admitted.

He smiled crookedly at her, kissing up her abdomen before reaching her mouth once more. Jon kissed her deeply, pressing himself to her. Sansa responded eagerly, much changed from the shy girl who sat in the bed when he walked in. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing his aching cock in contact with the heat between her legs. He groaned against her mouth and she froze for a moment.

Jon drew away with wide eyes, hoping that he hadn’t scared her. Instead of frightened, Sansa looked slightly curious, trying to glance down without being obvious about it.

“If you want to stop here tonight, we can,” Jon offered.

She shook her head so quickly that it surprised him.

“I would do my duty,” Sansa said.

“I don’t want it to be duty,” Jon replied.

She took a deep breath, stroking his hair.

“I want to,” Sansa assured him.

Hesitantly, she pushed against his chest until their positions were reversed. She hovered over him, straddling his thighs with an uncertain look.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” Sansa said quietly, her cheeks growing warm.

Jon just gave her a reassuring look, drawing her hands towards his smallclothes. She untied the laces with sure fingers and he lifted his hips, allowing her to tug the last garment that separated them down his legs. Sansa let them fall to the ground, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Can I…” her hand hovered over his arousal warily.

“Oh gods yes,” Jon mumbled, his body tensing in anticipation.

Her hand wrapped around him slowly, keeping a light touch. Jon hissed as she stroked up his length and Sansa pulled her hand away as if she’d been stung.

“Did I hurt you?” she said with wide eyes.

He shook his head, reaching out to press his hands to her hips. Jon tugged her closer, sitting up as she straddled his lap. They both let out soft moans when his cock settled against her folds. Sansa unintentionally rocked against him, gripping at his shoulders as she leaned forward and initiated their kiss for the first time. Jon pressed a hand to her lower back, tangling the fingers of the other in her hair. Entangled among the furs with his new wife, he felt utter happiness and desperation to be as close to her as possible.

“Are you ready?” he whispered against her lips.

Sansa nodded, moving to climb off of his lap. Jon kept her in place, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I prefer it this way.”

She looked at him with surprise but did not protest.

“I don’t know how."

Jon lifted her hips, taking her hand and wrapping it around his arousal once more. He fought the urge to thrust into her grip, helping her guide him to her entrance.

“Breathe,” he reminded her quietly, noticing that she was holding her breath.

Sansa nodded, letting the tension out of her body once more as she sank down on him. She let out a soft cry when he pushed through her maidenhead and Jon kissed away the tears that fell, knowing that was the only thing that he could do. She stilled, whispering an apology as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, sweet girl,” Jon assured her.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck before looking up at him. Their gazes held evenly as he filled her the rest of the way, both breathing heavily and clutching at each other. Sansa moved slowly as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, pushing him back to lie down. Her hands explored his torso, brushing over the dark hair on his chest and dipping into his navel.

“I never imagined it this way,” Sansa said softly.

For his part, Jon was concentrating heavily on the tight, wet heat around his cock and urging himself not to thrust up into her.

“I hope that it’s better than you imagined,” he said in a strained voice.

Sansa noticed his tension, her eyes widening slightly.

“Show me,” she breathed.

Jon could have kissed her silly at the moment if he did not want to follow her command so desperately. He slowly helped her roll her hips, watching her face for any sign of pain. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip but she did not tear her eyes from his. Sansa began moving on her own, catching his rhythm. She pulled his hands away from her body, pressing their palms against each other before entwining their fingers. Her walls fluttered around him as she sighed, tilting her head back. Jon stared up at her with a cross of wonder and desire, unable to believe that he could spend every night for the rest of his life in the arms of this beauty. He freed one hand from her grip and reached up, unable to resist pulling her down to kiss her. Sansa ceased her movements, focusing on the kiss. He gingerly turned them over, hooking her legs around hips before driving into her in slow, deep strokes. Sansa shivered beneath him, tilting her head back with a light moan as she hitched her leg up higher on his hip. Their noises of pleasure mingled in the air as their sweat-slicked bodies pressed so close that Jon could not tell where he ended and she began. He reached between them and rubbed at her clit, determined to give her another bout of pleasure before he reached his peak.

“Oh gods,” Sansa gasped, clenching down on him.

The feeling drew a groan out of his chest and new words slipped out of his mouth before he could call them back.

“You feel so fucking good,” Jon sighed, burying his face in her hair.

Instead of freezing and sending him from her bed at that moment, Sansa arched into him and let out a shout, writhing beneath him. His eyes widened with surprise as she peaked for a second time. Jon’s pace quickened as he felt his own release approaching. Sansa stroked his back and pressed kisses along his shoulder. Moments later, he called her name out hoarsely as he spilled within her, slowing his strokes until he could not move again. Barely fighting the urge to collapse atop her, Jon turned over and brought her with him, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close to his chest. Sansa’s head lay over his heart as they both recovered, breathing heavily. By the time he spoke, her eyes were already fluttering tiredly.

“Was that… are you all right?” Jon questioned.

Sansa smiled, turning to look up at him.

“It was amazing,” she assured him.

Jon smiled, running his thumb over her cheek.

“Are you happy now, my princess?”

She nodded quickly, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

“I am very happy, my prince,” Sansa murmured, pulling away to look down at him. “And you?”

Jon nodded as well, stroking her back softly.

“I couldn’t be happier,” he admitted, knowing without a doubt that it was the truth.

She grinned at him before curling into his side once more. Jon reached down, carefully pulling the furs over their joined bodies. They drifted off into sleep not long after, ending their first day as a husband and wife in the most perfect way imaginable.


	4. Modern AU - College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds a spider in her brother's shower.

Sansa really did not plan for this. When the showers at her dorm room stopped working, she searched for a second option, determined not to go without being clean. It was luck that had her brother's apartment so close by and, not for the first time, Sansa was thankful that they went to the same university. When Robb let her in, she couldn’t resist giving him a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Sansa breathed, ready to launch into a lengthy explanation of why he was her savior that day.

Her brother knew that it was coming, waving her off as he directed her towards the bathroom door.

“I have to go meet a few friends for coffee. You shouldn’t need anything but if you do, Jon is sleeping in his room,” Robb said, pointing at a different door.

“Your roommate is here?” Sansa said, her eyes widening as she clutched at his arm.

He nodded in response.

“Yeah, but he won’t bother you. He’ll probably sleep through everything,” Robb shrugged.

She pressed her lips together but did not complain. He was doing her a favor after all. Sansa just hoped that his roommate was not a secret serial killer or something.

“Thanks,” she said again, leaning in to kiss his cheek before stepping into the bathroom.

It was cleaner than she expected for an apartment housing two single boys but Sansa still wrinkled her nose at the towels lying on the ground and the toothpaste stains all over the counter.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she muttered quietly, clearing out a space to put her change of clothes before turning to pull the shower curtain aside.

Once the water was running hot, she stripped down and climbed beneath the spray, sighing with relief. Sansa set about washing quickly, hoping to get out of the apartment before this Jon awoke. Her wish was in vain. The minute that she reached out to pick up a bottle of body wash, a spider the size of a quarter ran out from behind it. A loud scream escaped from her mouth before she could help it just as another arachnid appeared, joining its friend in terrifying her. Sansa barely kept from falling down in her rush to escape from the shower, grabbing a towel just as the door slammed open. She barely managed to wrap it around her body when a sleepy college student ran in with a baseball bat in his hands. It was almost comical, the way that they stared at each other during several moments of silence. Sansa noted that he was quite attractive, with messy dark curls and dark grey eyes that were looking at her with confusion and interest.

“You screamed,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

Sansa nodded, pointing at the shower.

“Spiders,” she admitted, color flooding her cheeks.

A smile tugged at his lips and she knew that he was likely fighting the urge to tease her.

“I guess this would be too much then,” he said, holding the bat up.

“I don’t know, maybe you could try it,” Sansa replied, stepping aside as he moved further into the bathroom.

Jon let out a short laugh, pulling the curtain aside. He used a bottle to knock the spiders off of the wall, squishing them with a bundle of toilet paper before flushing them down the toilet. As he stepped back with a nod, Sansa looked at him hesitantly.

“What if there are more?” she asked, biting on her lower lip.

He didn’t hide his smile now, grinning as he moved all of the bottles aside to look for more eight-legged terrors.

“No more spiders,” Jon assured her.

Sansa relaxed, finally realizing just how naked and wet she was in front of him. The towel did not cover near enough, coming to mid-thigh to show off the rest of her long legs. She could tell that Jon was trying not to look and Sansa gave him credit for that.

“Sansa Stark,” she said, securing the towel with one hand before reaching out to shake his with the other.

Realization dawned in his eyes as soon as he heard her name.

“Robb’s sister,” he said, shaking her hand.

Sansa nodded in confirmation.

“I’m Jon Snow.”

“Nice to meet you, Jon,” she said, meaning every word despite the strange circumstances that brought about their introduction.

“You too,” he nodded, turning away to leave her to her shower.

In a burst of confidence, Sansa reached out and caught his arm, turning him back towards her. She was suddenly thankful that Robb was gone because he would not have been pleased to see what she was about to do. It was brief. Just a soft press of her lips to his. He froze for a moment before responding, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kissed her back. Sansa did not intend for it to become a deep or passionate kiss but they were molded to each other before she knew it. By the time that she drew away, they were both breathing heavily and looking at each other with shared surprise in their eyes. Sansa backed away as he released her, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Thanks for saving me from the spiders."

Jon nodded, looking slightly dazed.

“Any time,” he replied, turning to walk out only to bump into the doorway.

Sansa let out a light laugh as he flushed and grinned sheepishly over his shoulder. Once he left her, she warily climbed beneath the spray once more and hurried through her shower. After all, she had a really hot savior to get to know.


	5. Modern AU - Modern!Westeros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't trust me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically everything goes the same, just more modern. The only big difference is that, instead of Jon going North, he’s recognized as a Targaryen from birth and goes overseas with Daenerys and Viserys. Daenerys marries Aegon and Jon is their heir once they take over Westeros.
> 
> This is another one that I may make into a longer fic.

She knew why they were traveling to King’s Landing from the Vale. The Lannisters were gone, destroyed by their own actions, so there was no more danger of being recognized. Sansa Stark was still Alayne Stone, Petyr Baelish’s bastard daughter and posing as his assistant for her own safety. They were welcomed to the capital, albeit reluctantly by their new rulers. Sansa didn't blame them for distrusting Petyr. He had worked for Cersei Lannister and for Robert Baratheon before that. She wondered what would become of him if they knew that he was harboring Ned Stark’s last remaining child under their noses.

“You know what you're supposed to do,” he said as she stood in his lodgings at the Red Keep.

She nodded, keeping her face blank as he walked around her, inspecting her closely for any faults.

“The queen is sending you to the Free Cities to oversee her accounts there for the next few months. I am to watch the royal family in your absence and gather whatever information might be useful to you,” she said quietly.

He had been grooming her for this, to be his own personal spy. She hated him for it, even if she owed him her life.

“Good,” Petyr praised, reaching out to stroke one of her long, dark curls. “Now let’s go meet our new rulers.”

Sansa smoothed out [her dress](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F330733166355999128%2F&t=NGUzY2EzNmI4NGI0YWJkYmIwOGRmOGEwNDk3ZTFhN2ExYTNiNzAyMix3MWtPaWNzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AEEJ1Jfp4Wr7KM62mimV2cw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhistoricbellamyblake-archive.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F98670605783%2Foooh-how-about-jonsansa-dont-trust-me&m=1) and adjusted [her heels](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F498210777501277936%2F&t=ZWM1NDEzM2MxZTE1NDNkYjlhMjY2NzZmMGQxM2ZlMjMwN2EwZjZmNCx3MWtPaWNzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AEEJ1Jfp4Wr7KM62mimV2cw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhistoricbellamyblake-archive.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F98670605783%2Foooh-how-about-jonsansa-dont-trust-me&m=1) before walking out, falling behind as they were escorted to the Great Hall by the steward of the castle. When they were introduced to the conquering queen and her two nephews, one of them her husband and king, Sansa could not help but notice the one that looked so unlike the others. In particular, she could not help but see the startling similarities between her late father and this young prince, Jon Targaryen. He was truly her aunt’s son, that much was undeniable. It did not escape her notice that he was quite attentive towards her as well. And Sansa knew that if she noticed it, that Petyr did as well.

“You’ll learn the most from him. Use his interest to your advantage,” he murmured in her ear before he was led away to speak with Daenerys in her council chamber.

Sure enough, Prince Jon volunteered to escort her out to the gardens when he heard that she had not seen them. Of course Sansa had seen them too many times to count during her time under Joffrey’s thumb, but she knew better than to mention that. Alayne Stone had never been to King's Landing, after all.

“How do you find the capital?” Jon asked as they walked.

Sansa knew from the imploring look in his dark grey eyes that he wanted the truth, not a polite lie in response.

“Suffocating,” she said bluntly.

His eyes lit up in surprise before his lips twitched into a small smile.

“I cannot lie, my lady, I agree with you,” Jon admitted, ducking his head as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants.

Sansa suddenly felt the urge to tell him who she really was and why she had to lie. Instead, she bit down on her cheek to keep the truth hidden and stepped closer to him. She had to tell him something, anything, to warn him so that he would not have any misconceptions about her. Sansa did not know Petyr’s plans for the Targaryens but she was certain that she did not want them touching this man. A person who only wanted the truth and looked to her with trust in his eyes. Trust that could get him killed.

“Don’t trust me,” she whispered.

His eyes widened as he lifted his head and she nodded once, letting him know that he heard right.

“Don’t trust my father either,” Sansa warned, hoping that he would understand who she was referring to.

With that, she stepped away from him, weaving through the gardens effortlessly as her heels clicked against the smooth path.


	6. Canon AU - Pre Series

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will always find you."

The entire castle fell into chaos when Sansa disappeared. Lady Stark panicked more than the rest of them but Jon could see that even his father was terrified for his eldest daughter. No one asked Jon to join in on the search but he did nonetheless, following Robb’s lead. It was pure instinct that brought him to the sept. Jon couldn’t remember ever setting foot in the place. He followed the old gods, the gods of the Starks, of the North. The statues of the Seven shadowed his steps, their faces eerie in the dim light of the building. As he moved further into the sept, Jon became more certain that Sansa was somewhere here. Sure enough, he found her huddled in a corner with a doll clutched in her hands and tears glistening on her cheeks. His younger sister looked more disheveled than he’d ever seen her, the auburn curls a tangled mess and her dark green dress torn in several places.

“You found me,” Sansa said quietly as he sank to his knees before her.

He didn’t know what pushed him to say it but the words were coming out of his mouth before he knew it.

“I will always find you,” Jon vowed.

She looked at him with surprise, her blue eyes wide.

“What happened?”

“Arya said that no one likes me, not really, so I ran away,” Sansa said in a quiet voice as if she feared that he would be angry with her.

Jon sighed, reaching a hand out to her. She took it hesitantly, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Arya is wrong,” he said, leading her out of the sept.

“What if she’s not?” Sansa asked, stopping at the doors.

When she looked up at him, her eyes betrayed her fear. Jon bent down slightly, only a few inches taller than her.

“You’re beautiful and kind, Sansa. Everyone loves you,” he assured her.

Sansa looked slightly happier but still hesitant.

“Do you love me?” she said, tilting her head to the side.

Jon smoothed her hair out, knowing that she wouldn’t like the sight of it if she knew what it looked like.

“Of course,” he said, rubbing a smudge of dirt away from her cheek.

Sansa threw her arms around his neck, bestowing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I love you too, Jon,” she decided before tugging him out into the cool night air.

She ran straight into her mother’s arms as Ned patted his back, telling him that he did good in finding her. Over Catelyn’s shoulder, Sansa's eyes fixed on him and she smiled brightly, the first time in a long time that she’d ever graced him with such a look. Jon smiled back at her, unable to resist.

*****

Despite Petyr Baelish’s attempts to hide Sansa’s identity, giving her a name that was not her own, Jon would have recognized her Tully blue eyes and pale, beautiful face. Of course she’d grown over the years, just as he had, but she still looked like the girl that he once knew. As he approached her, ignoring Baelish's protests, Sansa reached for him. Her hands clasped his tightly as if the grip was the only thing keeping her upright. Behind Jon, his aunt’s Unsullied soldiers stirred restlessly, keeping the former Master of Coin in place.

“Sansa,” he breathed.

Her eyes lit up at the sound of her own name and she reached up, embracing him tightly. Jon buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her as he felt her tears against his neck.

“You found me,” Sansa breathed, her voice trembling.

Jon smiled slightly, pulling away to put his hands on her cheeks. He brushed her tears away with his thumbs.

“I will always find you,” he reminded her.

She let out a small laugh, nodding her head.

“I know.”


	7. Modern AU - Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ouija board thinks we should fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smutty smut.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Jon said warily.

Sansa simply gave him a smile, pulling the board out of the box.

“Are you afraid of ghosts?” she asked in a lightly teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, standing in front of the bed to watch her. She was sitting cross-legged with her hair tied up and a look of concentration on her face.

“Weird shit happens when people mess with these things,” Jon said, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he spoke.

Sansa looked down, laying the Ouija board flat atop her bed before placing the small piece on top of it.

“We’re both supposed to touch it, I think,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

“I’m not doing that,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Jon,” she said, drawing his name out in one long, whining syllable.

He shook his head, standing strong against her pleading look. Sansa sighed heavily before looking back down at the board. She placed several fingers of each hand on the small piece. Jon turned away, looking almost pained as he stared out the window. Sansa gasped, watching as the piece made its way across the board. He still refused to look over, though he felt slightly curious. After almost a full minute, his girlfriend sighed heavily.

“It’s just as I suspected,” Sansa said solemnly.

Jon looked over at her with wide eyes.

“What?” he said, expecting something horrible.

“The Ouija board thinks we should fuck,” she said, her voice entirely serious.

Jon stared at her for several moments in stunned silence before a grin broke out on his face. Sansa, ever the proper lady, had never so much as thought about uttering that word before in her life. Hearing it in her soft, pleasant voice sent a jolt of heat through him. He moved forward, crawling onto the bed before sweeping the board off, box and all. Sansa finally ended her serious facade and giggled, reaching her arms out to him. He pushed her back against the pillows of her bed without hesitation, kissing her deeply as he settled himself against her gently. Her legs wrapped around his hips loosely and her fingers curled into his hair.

"You think we should do what the Ouija board says?” Jon murmured against her lips.

She nodded, stroking one of her hands down his back.

“I don’t think that we should take any chances with this kind of thing."

Jon hummed in agreement, kissing his way down her throat. She tugged at his shirt until he allowed her to pull it over his head and he discarded her dress with ease, kissing and nibbling his way down her torso until his mouth skimmed over the waistband of her panties. She wriggled beneath him, letting out a desperate whimper.

“What does the board think about this?” he asked, his warm breath washing over her skin.

Sansa shivered, arching towards him.

“Please."

He grinned, hooking his fingers in the elastic before dragging the thin garment down her legs. Sansa’s thighs parted easily, almost eager in her hurry to give him access to her most intimate of places. Jon laid himself down slowly, savoring the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands as he stroked his fingers up her milky thighs. When he parted her folds, Sansa sighed and lifted her hips, inviting him to come closer. Jon did just that, breathing in her scent before stroking one finger through her folds. Her leg hooked over his shoulder as he lowered his mouth to her cunt, licking one long strip up the length of her. She let out a low moan, tossing her head back with a plea for him to use his tongue, lips, and fingers on her until she fell apart beneath him. Jon was just as eager as Sansa, licking and sucking over every inch of her like the mere taste of her satisfied every thirst and hunger that he would ever have.

As his tongue flicked over her clit several times in succession, Sansa’s fevered cries turned to breathless moans. She worked her hips against his mouth, desperate for more. He knew when her peak was approaching, sliding one finger, then two, into her before curling them just right. He knew her body better than his own, aware of what would push her over the edge. His lips latched around her clit and he sucked, laving over it with his tongue. Her thighs almost clamped around his head as her orgasm rolled over her in intense waves. Sansa writhed and sobbed out her pleasure beneath him, pushing him away when she was finally too sensitive for any more of his attentions. Jon brushed his knuckles over her soft abdomen as she came down, breathing heavily with a satisfied look on her face.

“What does the board say now?” Jon asked teasingly.

She shook her head with a smile, launching up to pull him into a deep kiss. Jon knew that she enjoyed tasting herself on his tongue, knowing that only she got to do this with him. Before he knew it, she’d maneuvered him to his back and was tugging his pants and boxers down. She quickly unhooked her bra and tossed it away before straddling him, stroking her fingers down his chest.

“And you thought this wasn’t a good idea,” Sansa said with a coy smile, rocking her cunt over his aching cock.

His answering groan was all that she need to hear. Jon held her hips as she sank down on him slowly, rubbing soothing circles into her skin as her tight heat surrounded him.

“ _God_ you feel good,” he grunted once he was fully sheathed within her.

Sansa bent down, nipping and kissing at his pulse point.

“You know what I think?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Jon said, almost too busy concentrating on the feel of her to really pay attention to her words.

“I think you feel fucking amazing inside of me,” Sansa said, using that word once more.

Jon let out a loud groan, bucking upwards at her words. The proud smile on her face told him that she knew exactly what her cursing did to him. Sansa began rolling her hips, her pace slow and steady at first. It wasn’t long before their movements became feverish and hurried. He pushed himself up, wrapping one arm around her back with his hand splayed over her spine. The other cupped her cheek almost gently as he kissed her with all of the passion that he could muster. They moved effortlessly, their limbs curled around the other and their bodies pressed together as close as they could be. Sansa came for a second time with a hoarse cry of his name. Jon followed shortly after, spilling within her as he muffled his rough noises with his face buried in the side of her neck. He kissed over her collarbone as they slowly came down. Once they could move, they collapsed onto the bed together and Sansa curled against him, her fingers stroking over his abdomen lightly. His hand followed the same path up and down her spine as their breathing slowed and they regained the power of speech.

“I am never going to doubt a Ouija board again,” Jon vowed.

Sansa’s laughter filled the room and he couldn’t help but join, pulling her closer.


	8. Modern AU - Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks we came to this party as a couple because our costumes match what’s your name AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I imagined a Hook from Once Upon a Time sort of costume. It’s just stuck in my head because of how great Jon would look in leather.

Jon never planned on going to the party but apparently Gilly had other ideas all along. When he finally figured that he did not have to work on Halloween night, she produced a costume so quickly that he entertained the idea it must have been some form of witchcraft to go along with her black pointed hat. Sam simply shrugged at him, the look on his face saying it all. They both knew better than to argue with Gilly, despite her short stature. So he put on the costume, leather vest and fake earring included. As soon as Jon walked out of the bathroom, his roommate's girlfriend attacked him with her eyeliner while informing him that he would be the most sought after pirate at the party. He just rolled his eyes, hoping that he didn’t look completely ridiculous. When they arrived at the party, Jon couldn’t help but tug at his jacket uncomfortably.

“Stop that,” Gilly chastised, reaching over to slap his hand away. “You look great.”

Jon didn’t reply, only wanting to find a drink as soon as possible. As soon as he picked up a beer from a nearby cooler, his eyes caught sight of a flash of copper hair from across the room. His mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of her, taking in her appearance slowly. She was talking animatedly with another girl, gesturing with her hands, a smile on her dark red lips. Her hair spilled perfectly over her back in fiery waves and was pulled back with a black bandana. The costume that she wore did everything possible to emphasize her slim curves. Jon couldn’t help but appreciate the way that the leather pants clung to her legs and how the dark red corset-like top emphasized her small waist.

“Oh my God! You two look amazing!” a girl that he didn't know said as she passed. 

Her eyes were going between Jon and the beautiful redhead with a sparkle of awe in them.

“You should definitely win the award for best couples’ costumes.”

He started to shake his head but she was gone before Jon could correct her and say that he didn’t even know the pirate girl. By the time his eyes flitted back over to her, she was staring back at him curiously. Even from across the room, he could see the bright blue of her eyes. A smile formed on her face and she lifted the drink in her hand towards him in a silent toast. He did the same, drinking it at the same time as her. Jon lost the beautiful pirate girl in the crowd soon after that. For about an hour, he mingled around with Gilly and Sam before escaping out to the backyard of the large house to take a breath.

“I’ve had about ten people ask if we came together tonight,” a soft voice said to his right as soon as he stepped out onto the porch.

Jon’s head turned quickly to see the redhead sitting on a porch swing. Her smile was just as beautiful as the rest of her. The toes of her tall boots were skimming the ground as she rocked back and forth. She gestured to the seat next to her and he moved closer without thinking.

“I've been asked the same,” Jon replied, sitting down next to her.

The sweet scent of her perfume filled his senses as soon as he breathed in. He fought the urge to take another deep breath, glancing over at her.

“So what’s your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you sexy pirate guy?” she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she grinned at him.

Jon laughed lightly, rocking them back and forth gently.

“Jon, yours? Unless you want me to keep calling you beautiful pirate girl?”

She laughed as well, her peals high and musical.

“Sansa.”

They shook hands, beaming at one another.

“I wasn’t even supposed to come to this party,” Jon admitted after they made small talk for several minutes.

Sansa leaned over, bumping at his shoulder.

“I’m glad that you did,” she said.

Jon, in a burst of confidence, reached over to stroke his fingers through her silky waves. Then he leaned in bravely, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to her lips while giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t, deepening the kiss as her arms wound around his shoulders. They broke part several minutes later and Sansa laughed lightly, cleaning her lipstick off of his lips.

“You don’t think it suits me?” Jon asked dazedly, deciding that she was worth coming to the party dressed in leather for.

“I think the eyeliner is sexy but the lipstick is a step too far,” Sansa said with a smile, leaning in to kiss him once more.

When she stood, he watched with a slight feeling of disappointment. The feeling must have shown on his face because she laughed once more, reaching down to brush her thumb over his pouty bottom lip.

“You’re leaving already?” Jon asked, knowing it wasn’t even midnight yet.

“I have trouble to cause yet," she said before holding her hand out to him. "Would you care to join me?”

He took it, standing as well.

“Aye, I think that I would,” Jon said in an over-exaggerated accent, making them both laugh as they made their way inside.

They weren’t inside long before the inevitable best costume awards began. Sure enough, much to their amusement, Jon and Sansa won the best couples’ costumes award.


	9. Canon AU - Future Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something future fic-ish with Dany telling Jon he has to get married since he's heir to the Iron Throne and Sansa asking/convincing him to pick her instead of any of his other prospects cause she doesn't want him to be with anyone else?

Sansa didn't know why she’d been brought to the council chamber for this particular meeting. The new queen liked to hear her opinions on the North and often listened to her advice on dealing with the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms but this was not related to either of those.

“You must marry, nephew,” Daenerys said, an air of finality in her voice.

“I didn't realize that you were so invested in my personal life, aunt,” Jon responded, a coldness in his voice that could have rivaled the very wall that he used to protect.

“You are my heir and I will not let this go on any longer. There are a number of eligible young woman in Westeros that would do well as your wife. Choose, Jon, or I will.”

Sansa’s blood ran cold and her heart sank even as the young queen spoke. She tried to keep her displeasure from showing on her face, turning away from them to look at the Targaryen three-headed dragon banner displayed on the wall. When Daenerys swept from the room, she curtsied shallowly with her breath caught in her throat. As soon as they were left alone, Sansa could not help but look at Jon. It took quite a few moments, but he finally returned her gaze with hesitation.

“Well, she is right,” Sansa said, trying to ignore the tears prickling at her eyes. “There are more than a few women who would make a great future Queen of Westeros.”

Jon sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight pressed down upon them.

“Sansa,” he began, stepping forward.

She turned away, though she knew it was not proper to do so in front of a prince. Once she managed to take a deep, shaking breath, Sansa steadied herself and looked back at him.

“Don’t do it, Jon,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could not bear to see you love another woman.”

Sansa knew that it was bordering on ridiculous to expect any measure of devotion from her cousin. After all, a few stolen kisses on the journey from the Vale to King’s Landing did not constitute a promise to marry for either of them. She just allowed herself to hope that he might decide to one day place his cloak upon her shoulders.

“I couldn’t, Sansa,” he said, reaching forward to curl his hand over her cheek.

She lifted her own hand, placing it over his as if to keep it in place.

“I know that I am not as good a match as some of the other eligible women in Westeros but I could be a good wife for you. I could advise you on any matters that you wish and I could bear such beautiful children, Starks in all but name,” Sansa tried to convince him, her voice betraying her desperation. “Please, I couldn’t watch you marry another.”

Jon sighed, leaning towards her to press his lips to her forehead.

“Why do you think that my aunt brought you to this meeting, Sansa?”

She looked up at him with surprise and confusion mingling on her face.

“I hadn’t thought to question it,” Sansa said honestly.

“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to speak of it to you for ages, ever since we arrived in King’s Landing. Daenerys is quite aware of my cowardice and arranged this farce of a meeting to force my hand, not that I needed it,” Jon said quickly, looking slightly ashamed.

Sansa simply stared at him, not quite understanding what he was trying to say. When Jon reached into his doublet and pulled out a small pouch, she watched with a furrowed brow. He lifted a thin silver chain out, revealing the sapphire pendant on the end that matched her eyes perfectly.

“Oh, Jon. It’s beautiful,” she gasped, reaching out to touch it gently.

“So, would you do me the honor?” he questioned, sounding somewhat terrified of her answer even though she just made her feelings on the matter quite clear.

Sansa didn’t respond with words, rather leaning in to kiss him softly. She thought for certain that was answer enough and once he clasped the necklace around her neck and drew her in for another kiss, she knew that it was.


	10. Canon AU - Sansa soothes Jon's scars

“Can I ask you a question?”

Sansa hated how small her voice sounded. She had wanted to approach him confidently and now she only felt discouraged. Jon turned from where he stood by the fire, a cup of wine in his hand. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, her legs tucked beneath her as she played with the hem of her night shift.

“Of course."

Jon walked towards the bed, a questioning look on his face. Sansa hesitated, glancing down as she took a deep breath. Finally, she gathered the courage to look back up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“When we… when we couple, do you not like it?” she asked.

He stared at her with stunned expression before a smile broke out on his face. Sansa’s face burned with embarrassment as he laughed and moved to sit beside her.

“What makes you think that I don’t?” Jon asked, reaching out to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

She sighed, giving him a wary look.

“You never undress. I do not know much about the act but I know that it’s not normal,” Sansa said quietly.

Jon realized what she was trying to say, hesitating before placing his cup on the table beside the bed.

“Sansa, I am not a soft man like the ones that you dreamt of when we were young. My body bears the marks of war and fighting. Believe me, it is nothing that you wish to see.”

Her frown deepened as she reached out, touching her hand tentatively to his cheek. He did not flinch as she brushed her thumb over the white scars that surrounded his eyes.

“I have grown from the girl that I was, Jon,” Sansa said softly, her other hand loosening the ties of his tunic. “I saw war and fighting with my own eyes. You need not hide your scars from me.”

Jon reached up, catching her hand to pull it away.

“They do not remind me of good memories,” he said in a hushed voice.

“They hardly ever do,” Sansa murmured, leaning in to kiss each of the scars around his eyes.

He did not refuse when she tugged at his tunic, allowing her to lift it over his head. She pulled away, looking straight into his eyes as her hands ran over his broad shoulders.

“You have soothed my painful memories, my love. Let me do the same for you.”

Jon let out the breath that he’d been holding, leaning in to press his lips to hers softly. His fingers stroked through her hair before he pulled away. Sansa gave him a gentle smile before focusing her attention lower. Her eyes swept over his torso and she immediately saw the scars that he spoke of. Lifting his hand, she stroked her thumb over the burned flesh and looked up at him questioningly.

“The first wight that I fought. It was attacking Lord Commander Mormont,” he said quietly.

Sansa smiled, brushing her lips over the rough area.

“So brave, even then,” she whispered, regretting that she did not see it.

“I wouldn’t call it bravery,” Jon said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I would,” Sansa said, refusing to hear him deny it.

He grew quiet again when she focused her attention elsewhere. Sansa softly ran her fingers down his chest, touching each small scar that littered his torso.

“This is from the mutiny,” she guessed.

It was something she’d heard about but they never discussed it. Jon had nightmares about it, sometimes even waking up with tears on his cheeks at the reminder of the betrayal of those that he called his brothers. She brushed a kiss over the ones that she could reach before slipping around to his back, kissing all of the ones there too. He shuddered beneath her touch, a choked sigh coming from his throat. Sansa slid her arms around his waist, kneeling behind him as she pressed her lips to his back.

“I love you, Jon. Your scars can’t make that any less true. I love you because of them, not in spite of them. You are a strong, brave man who has survived so much. Don’t be ashamed of that."

He nodded, turning his head to glance back at her.

“I love you too,” Jon breathed.

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss him once more before pulling her shift over her head.

“Show me how much,” Sansa said, lying back on the pillows as he turned around to face her.

Jon grinned at her before lowering his head to kiss her deeply.


	11. Modern AU - Knight in Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I'm pretending to be your bf because you looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on you."

Jon never had the desire to be a knight in shining armor. He'd help someone if they needed it but he didn't want the attention. He would prefer to stay under the radar, if possible. But when he saw the blonde asshole at the bar making clearly unwanted advances on a beautiful yet frowning redhead, he couldn’t just let it continue. Both Sam and Gilly gave him questioning looks when he stood abruptly from their table and crossed the room towards the bar. As if she sensed his approach, the woman's head turned and her blue eyes grew wide. Jon almost stumbled over his own feet as he saw that she was staring straight at him, a clear cry for help in her expression. He was not going to disappoint. Stepping up behind her stool, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and bent down to press a hesitant kiss to her soft cheek. His heart raced in his chest as he feared that he went too far. Relief mingling with a bloom of triumph filled him when she leaned back into his chest, a small smile on her face.

“All right?” Jon murmured.

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking up at him with a bigger smile before gesturing to the asshole. “This is Joffrey, the son of my dad’s best friend. I told you about his family, right?”

Jon played along with ease, nodding his head. Even though he had no idea what she was talking about, it was hard not to recognize the guy’s name from every paper in the country. It helped that Rhaenys was a gossip who shared every piece of juicy news with them even when they didn’t want to hear it.

“The Baratheons, yeah. Didn’t you just get arrested?”

Joffrey turned a delightful shade of purple at the reminder of his time in the city jail for assault and battery. The lovely girl currently winding her fingers through his pressed her lips together to stifle a giggle.

“You’re with him?” Joffrey asked with a sneer.

She nodded, her face shining with happiness as she looked up at Jon.

“He’s amazing.”

He was usually horrible at reading signals but there was no denying the inviting look in her eyes. Jon tilted his head down, gently pressing his lips to hers. She responded eagerly, pushing up to deepen the kiss. She was damn good at it, making his heart skip a beat as her hand lifted and wound into his dark curls. By the time they separated, the other guy had melted into the crowd with a sour expression.

“Jon,” he said, lifting a hand to stroke over her porcelain cheek.

“Sansa,” she breathed, smiling up at him.

“Buy you a drink?”

“Yes please."


	12. Canon AU - Sansa is the YMBQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Please read the end notes for the chapter for info on an event that I'm doing.

She knew that they were coming. The gold cloaks had abandoned the city and her own guards were no match for the oncoming army. Every noble who had any sense had fled King’s Landing long ago when it was clear that the last remaining Targaryen was coming. Cersei did not leave. Her place was there. It had always been there. Sitting in Maegor’s holdfast with no one but her closest handmaidens, she thanked the gods that Tommen had died and that Myrcella was still in Dorne. They would be safe from whatever fate the new monarchs would conceive for her. It did not take them long to overrun the city. The people welcomed them, fearing the shadow of the dragons too much. Daenerys died long ago, leaving claim of her dragons to her nephew, Lyanna Stark’s son.

How was Cersei meant to know that Ned Stark’s bastard turned out to be Rhaegar’s only remaining heir?

No one knew. It was a secret that the cold northern lord took to his death. Word reached her many moons ago that the prince crossed the realm to take the Seven Kingdoms back for the Targaryens with his wife at his side. The Ice Dragon and his Red Wolf. For Cersei, their very existence meant her death. After all, the prophecy still haunted her. When the doors opened and several men entered, their armor stained with blood, she readied herself, smoothing out her Lannister red dress and adjusting the shawl around her shoulders. They entered side by side, a great white direwolf directly behind them. The new king and queen looked so much like younger versions of Ned and Catelyn Stark that it momentarily took her breath away.

Then she looked closer and noticed the difference.

Sansa’s beauty had been apparent during her time in King’s Landing as a mere child but it was nothing compared to now. Her auburn hair shone like fire and her wide blue eyes were visible even from across the room. Her high cheekbones highlighted her beauty and her pale skin was glowing. The dark blue dress that she wore fit her perfectly, embroidered by a steady hand. Her husband wore bloodstained armor, something that Sansa didn’t seem to care for as she stood close to him, her hand tucked into his elbow. The former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch looked every bit a northern man but at a certain angle, Cersei could see a violet hint to his grey eyes. In his face, she could see echoes of Rhaegar beneath the dark curls and cold eyes. They walked towards her, each beautiful in their own way. Her very own executioners.

_Queen you shall be…_

Jon Targaryen sheathed his sword, knowing that he did not need it. Sansa did not take her eyes away from Cersei, staring at her as if to unnerve her.

_…until there comes another…_

They were followed by the retinue of guards, growing nearer to her until they stopped just a few paces away. Jon nodded over his shoulder and something was tossed down at her feet. It was a head. Her brother’s head. Her Jaime, her last hope, dead already. The tears did not come. Her eyes were too stubborn to allow it. Sansa watched her face for any signs of grief. Cersei would not give her the satisfaction.

_…younger and more beautiful…_

She did not hear the words that were spoken, her mind roaring as she stared into the lifeless eyes of her first lover. Her beloved twin. The guards forced her to her knees. She would not be afforded the spectacle of a public execution. Her death had been decided the moment that she let Joffrey kill Ned Stark. Her eyes lifted to stare into the blue gaze of the Red Wolf, silently daring the other woman to do it herself. Sansa did not need the encouragement, drawing a dagger from her skirts. This was not the complacent girl who lived at court as a child. She was a warrior in her own way, something that Cersei could never truly be.

_…to cast you down…_

Her pale hand lifted, letting light glint off of the silver dagger. A running direwolf was carved into the hilt, rubies glittering in its eyes. One swift motion and Cersei was touching her throat, feeling the warmth of blood spilling over her hand. There was no pain, only startling realization. This was the queen that she could never be. Loved by her husband, loved by her people, deserving of the crown.

_…and take all that you hold dear._

It was a fitting end for the last remaining Lannister. As her blood soaked into the blue skirts of the new Queen of Westeros, Cersei took her last breath on the floor of the keep that she once ruled. Sansa reached over, slipping her hand into Jon’s. The dagger fell to the ground, her hand trembling as she stepped away from the body of the woman who had caused her so much grief.

“The monsters are gone,” she breathed.

Jon squeezed her hand lightly, turning her away to walk out once more. Ghost licked the blood from her hand before allowing them to pass.

“Long live the queen,” Jon murmured as they stepped out into the courtyard.

Sansa looked over at him, a sense of relief filling her.

“Long live the king,” she responded, a smile tugging at her lips.

Still holding hands, they made their way to the throne room to take their rightful places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of my birthday month, so I'm doing a little celebration for myself and for all of you! I want to write some fanfiction because that's what I love to do the most! I'm holding a fic trope tournament, where anyone can vote on their favorite tropes. You can read all the info [on my tumblr blog here](https://snowsinthenorth.tumblr.com/post/619853664183533569/so-since-this-is-my-birthday-month-this-is-the). Please vote in the first round! And if you have a tumblr account, I would absolutely love you if you'd reblog the post for me.


	13. Modern AU - Never Have I Ever

Despite the fact that they were all in their later years of college, it was fun to let loose like this sometimes, just drinking and messing around with friends. The game quickly turned to risque topics, as most things did when Margaery Tyrell was involved. Robb was delighted about his girlfriend’s tendency to dirty things up until he remembered that he was playing with his little sister and her boyfriend, who so happened to be his best friend, and that he would rather not know any of these things about their relationship. Once he excused himself from the room, the game went on.

“Never have I ever done the deed in public,” Renly said, smirking as most of them drank of their shots before refilling them.

Loras reached over, smacking him on the back of his head before announcing that it was Arianne’s turn.

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” she said, a proud look on her face when she was one of only two who didn’t drink.

Then it was Margaery’s turn, making Sansa already blush before her best friend spoke. She knew everything about her love life and would undoubtedly use that against her.

“Never have I ever had someone go down on me,” she said with a grin.

Sansa internally cursed her, looking away from them all when she was the only one who didn't drink.

“Seriously?” Arianna said, looking shocked.

She didn’t reply, keeping her lips pressed together tightly. Avoiding her boyfriend’s gaze altogether, she missed the shock and anticipation that mingled in Jon’s eyes.

“Well, it looks like someone has his work cut out for him,” Pyp said, patting Jon’s back.

It was his turn to blush, glowering at the others as they all laughed.

“I have to go,” Sansa said, jumping up.

It didn't surprise anyone when she didn't return to the game.

“Do you know how to do it?” Sam whispered, leaning over to Jon.

“I know how to do it,” he said, shoving him away with a scowl as the group laughed once more.

“Do what?” Robb asked, reentering the room now that his sister was gone.

“Nothing,” Margaery said quickly, inviting him to sit next to her once more.

*****

The drive back to his apartment was silent. Neither Sansa nor Jon were sure of what to say so they decided that nothing was probably the best option. As soon as they walked in the door, she hesitated in the entryway as he locked it up. As soon as it was latched into place, he turned around and she found herself pressed against the wall. Their lips met and the kiss quickly turned eager. Jon aligned himself close to her, curling the fingers of one hand in her long hair. As he nipped at her lower lip and slipped his other hand beneath her dress, she gasped against his mouth and arched towards him.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sansa breathed, though she should have known.

“Never have I ever,” Jon mumbled, kissing his way down her throat as he lightly stroked her through the thin material of her panties.

She circled her hips desperately, gripping his hair in one hand as she pulled him up for another kiss.

“Does it bother you?” Sansa asked, pulling away suddenly.

Jon knew that they were finally on the same page, both speaking of her confession by drinking.

“It inspires me,” he said before bending down to lift her body over his shoulder.

Sansa let out a yelp of surprise as he carried her down the hallway.

“You are incorrigible!” she said loudly, though she was laughing the whole way to the bedroom.

Before letting her down on the bed, Jon slapped her ass lightly. She squeaked and glowered up at him, looking adorably mussed where she half-lay in the center of the mattress. But adorable wasn't exactly their goal at the moment. Jon guided her back gently, encouraging her to settle on the pillows before tugging his shirt over his head.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, nudging her dress up her thighs.

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat when she realized what he intended to do. She reached forward, catching his wrist in her hand.

“You don’t have to just because I—”

He didn’t let her finish, kissing her deeply as he pushed the dress up to her hips. Hooking his fingers in her panties, he dragged them down her legs to leave her bare from the waist down. Her breaths came out in sharp, hitching gasps as her body trembling out of anticipation.

“I can make you feel so good,” Jon breathed, lowering his head to skim his lips over her stomach.

Sansa sighed, tilting her head back. When he nudged at her thighs, they parted easily. Jon lifted her legs over his shoulders, kissing and nipping at the crease of her thigh. The auburn curls between her legs were neatly trimmed, as always.

“You’ve done this before?” Sansa said, stroking her fingers through his hair as she propped herself up on her elbows.

Jon didn’t reply, parting her folds before lowering his head to lick one long stripe up the length of her cunt. His eyes lifted to look at her face as she let out a cross between a startled gasp and a moan, her head falling back. 

“God, Sansa, you taste so fucking good,” he said, relishing in the fact that he was completely surrounded by her.

She let out a high-pitched noise, tilting her hips desperately. He grinned, lowering his head to set to work. Jon was enthusiastic, kissing and licking and sucking at her as if she was the sweetest fruit on earth. For her part, Sansa rocked her hips and making all sorts of noises beneath him. One of her feet planted in the middle of his back as she lifted her hips to meet his mouth. His tongue easily found her clit, flicking over it again and again as she sobbed out her pleasure. Sansa’s hands tightened in his hair as she drew close, her body unable to resist the way that his lips and tongue made her feel. Finally, as he hummed and fastened his lips around her sweet spot, her peak hit her in intense waves. Sansa cried out his name, splayed out on the bed obscenely as he continued to lick at her eagerly until she grew too sensitive. Pushing him away weakly, she fell backward once he relented and tried to control her the rise and fall of her chest. Jon sat back on his heels, brushing his knuckles up and down her inner thigh as she recovered.

“Convinced yet?” Jon asked, a smirk forming on his face.

Her eyes flew open and she gave him a shrug, biting down on her lower lip to keep from giggling.

"We may need to repeat the experiment, just to be thorough," she said, tugging him down to kiss her.

"If you insist."


	14. Canon AU - Lyanna Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn and Lyanna watch Sansa and Jon, who are in love.

Her eyes tracked the boy across the yard, reminding herself that he wasn’t much of a boy anymore. Just like Robb, he was losing the look of adolescence. Soon those two would be men, and her lovely daughter would be a woman. Just as she thought the words, Catelyn’s eyes flitted to Sansa, where she was conversing quietly with Jeyne Poole in the shadow of the Great Keep. Their heads were tilted together with small smiles on their lips. Sansa was the oldest of the two, always more wise in Jeyne’s eyes. Nearing seven and ten, her daughter was attracting attention from many different young men in and about Winterfell, her own cousin included. Catelyn hadn’t missed Jon’s interest in Sansa, though no one else seemed to have noticed.

“You’ve seen it too, then?”

Except for one person. Lyanna was a carefree spirit in many ways even now. Quite often, Catelyn wondered if Arya was naturally as wild or if she learned it from her aunt's example.

“I have,” Catelyn said shortly, glancing over at her good-sister before looking between her daughter and Lyanna’s son once more.

“Oh don’t be so dour, Cat,” Lyanna said with a grin. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it?”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head before returning her gaze to the other woman.

“I do not wish to hurt you or Jon, Lya, but you know that this is never going to happen. Sansa is a beautiful young woman with many prospects when it comes to her future husband. Besides even if it was possible, she does not return his feelings.”

Lyanna didn’t look disappointed or insulted in the slightest, her grey eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, her eyes fixing on something.

Catelyn’s head whipped around and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Sansa no longer stood with Jeyne. She hovered near the training yard with a silver ribbon threaded through her slim fingers. Jon stood only a few paces away, his cheeks slightly pink as she grinned up at him, reaching out to tug on a dark curl lightly. Their conversation went back and forth until Jon nodded in response to something that Sansa asked with a slightly tilted head and wide blue eyes. It was her pleading look, something that she used when she wanted to get her way. Catelyn knew that look well. It always worked on Ned and Robb. She choked on air when Sansa reached out, tying her ribbon around Jon’s wrist when he held it up. With a kiss on his cheek and a whisper of something in his ear, her daughter turned and practically skipped back to Jeyne, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh."

There wasn't much else to say. She could feel her good-sister grinning next to her.

“There are worse things,” Lyanna said happily, turning to walk away as she whistled happily.

As Catelyn turned to walk into the keep, she knew that she needed to discuss this with her husband. Risking one last glance over her shoulder, Catelyn’s eyes fell on Jon, who was gazing at Sansa’s back with a look that could only be described as awestruck tenderness. It made her stop and stare, trying to figure out where she’d seen that look before. When he turned to walk into the training yard, it occurred to her. Ned gave her that look when they were married when their love was blooming and she had his babe in her belly. Catelyn had to take time to think it over, knowing now that it wasn’t just a silly infatuation on her bastard nephew’s part. There was every chance that he was in love with Sansa and judging by what she'd seen, there was even more of a chance that the feeling was returned.

This changed everything.


	15. Canon AU - Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon realises that there were serious consequences to the brief affair he and Sansa had when she visited the Wall, when he spots Sansa with a baby that is his spitting image.

Rickon should have been his first clue. The young Lord of Winterfell usually greeted him with a whoop of joy, running around in circles with Shaggydog. But now he wore an expression of cold indifference, watching silently as Jon dismounted his horse and walked over to him.

“My lord,” he said, bowing low.

Usually, Rickon would brush away such necessities. Now he allowed it without complaint. It was unsettling and, as he straightened up, Jon tried to think of what he could have done to offend his young brother turned cousin in his absence.

“Lord Commander,” Rickon said solemnly, giving him a short nod. “You are most welcome in my home.”

The cold way in which he spoke the words made Jon wonder if he was truly welcome. He almost reminded Rickon that he was no longer Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because there was no more Night’s Watch. It had been disbanded shortly after the end of the war considering that there were no more threats on the other side of the Wall. Jon was now an emissary to the Warden of the North. His aunt knew that his heart did not lie in King’s Landing with the lies and intrigue of court. Jon belonged in the North. He might not have the name but he was a Stark nonetheless..

“There are matters of import that I must attend to,” Rickon said, using the same cold tone and word that he could only have learned from his oldest sister. “I will see you when we dine this evening.”

Before Jon could say another word, the young lord turned and walked off with Shaggydog at his feet. If Sansa were around, she likely would have scolded him off for such behavior but she was strangely out of sight.

“Is Lady Sansa around?” Jon asked the steward who was there to escort him to his chambers.

“I believe that she is in the glass gardens, Your Grace.”

He frowned at the use of the title but said nothing more, turning to walk away after instructing Ghost to stay behind. Even now, he was not used to being treated as a prince. It bothered him, but only Sansa really understood that. She had known his mind ever since he found her in the Vale. Just before the Watch was disbanded, she visited him at the Wall to take her chance at seeing the world from the top of the structure. That was when everything changed between them. Walking into the glass gardens that had always been a place that Sansa loved, he glanced this way and that to find her. When he heard her laughter floating through the air, a small smile formed on his face. He had missed that. Following the sound, Jon wondered if she would receive him warmly.

His thoughts all came to a halt when he heard a new sound, more laughter that joined with Sansa’s. It was not the laughter of a man or even a woman. It was the delighted giggle of a young child. His legs moved quickly as he felt the strong need to confirm what he already suspected. Sure enough, when he reached the spot where the winter roses grew, he saw them. Sansa knelt upon the ground, her arms outstretched and a smile lighting up her beautiful face. Her red hair shone and she wore a crown of the blue roses to match the darker blue of her dress. Walking towards her on unsteady legs was a toddler that looked all too familiar. The boy’s eyes were bright blue, matching his mother’s perfectly. But his dark curls and long face were all Jon.

“Come to Mama! Come on!” Sansa encouraged him, laughing when he squealed and moved quicker.

Just as he threw himself into her arms, her eyes lifted and she caught sight of Jon. She reacted quite immediately, her eyes lighting up even more and her smile growing wider.

“Oh my precious boy!” she said happily, tilting her head away from Jon as she rose to her feet and twirled them about in a circle.

The child clutched to his mother as he laughed, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek as she grew still. Sansa knelt to the ground again, settling him on his feet once more. Jon shifted forward, their sheer happiness drawing him in. She turned the little boy around, letting him see the newcomer while still holding him. The child looked at Jon curiously, his head tilting to the side. He found himself squatting down, hoping that he looked encouraging and not just shocked.

“Ned, that’s your Papa,” Sansa whispered quietly, making Jon’s heart swell and his eyes prick with tears. “Walk to your Papa.”

Jon held his arms out automatically, not sure of what else to do. Ned looked at him for a few more moments before deciding that he would trust his mother. Holding his chubby hands out, he took sure steps towards Jon, only stumbling once before throwing himself forward. Jon caught him with ease, lifting him up into his arms. He stared into the face of his son, unable to think of anything other than how beautiful he was, silently delighting in the solid weight in his arms. Guilt crept in as Sansa walked to them, unsure of how she would receive him. Her hand settled on his shoulder as soon as she reached him and she pushed herself up onto her toes, coaxing him into a deep kiss. Ned hardly noticed, playing with the silver clasp on Jon’s cloak. As Sansa pulled away, her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him, a smile pulling at her lips once more.

“We’re glad you’re home.”

Jon was almost too overwhelmed to reply, simply kissing her forehead first, then Ned’s.

“So am I."


	16. Modern AU - Drama School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama school rivals being cast as romantic opposites because they have “crazy sexual tension” according to their director.

The entire school was buzzing with excitement as everyone awaited the posting of the cast list on the school’s website. _Much Ado About Nothing_ was chosen as the spring play and Sansa knew that at least a couple of dozen of her fellow classmates had auditioned for the role of Beatrice. She was one of the few who didn’t, content with being Hero. She was almost certain that Margaery would be cast as Beatrice. Her dry humor was perfect for the role. Everyone kept feverishly refreshing their web pages, waiting for the list to be posted. 

“It’s on!” Sansa heard someone shout.

She was in one of the many common areas of the school, watching as everyone pulled out their computers and tablets, desperately reading over the list of cast members. When their eyes all lifted and looked straight in her direction, she assumed that they were looking at Margaery jealously, too engrossed in eating a bowl of frozen yogurt to care.

“Oh my—” Margaery said next to her.

Sansa looked up to see that her eyes were wide.

“Oh like you didn’t know that you were going to be Beatrice,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not Beatrice,” her best friend said, looking over at her with amusement written all over her face. “I’m Hero.”

Sansa felt her heart sink. She really did want to be in the play but there was always next year.

“Well, who got Beatrice then?” she asked, brushing off the disappointment.

Margaery turned her laptop to face Sansa, showing her the list. When her eyes fell on the name of the actress playing the lead female role, her frozen yogurt almost slipped from her hands. She was almost afraid to look at the actor in the role of Benedick, somehow knowing exactly who it would be. Margaery was snorting out her amusement by the time Sansa processed it all. She didn’t say a word, standing to pick up her bag. Opening her mouth, she felt a jumble of words rise in her throat but all of them died on her tongue.

“No,” she finally declared, taking off towards the director’s office.

Eyes tracked her across the small campus, watching enviously as she hurried towards the faculty building. By the time Sansa made it to the door of the director’s office, there was another person there waiting with an exasperated look on his face.

“You,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He turned to face her, looking surprised before nodding in response.

“Me,” Jon said in a deadpan voice, turning to knock on the door once more.

“I bet you’re just thrilled,” Sansa snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You would love the chance to screw me over here.”

He shook his head, refusing to look at her again.

“I auditioned for the role of Don Pedro. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Well, it did!"

Jon finally turned his head, his look making it clear that he thought she was overreacting. It was hard not to, now that she found herself cast in a play as a romantic interest to her long-time rival. She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. That clearly wasn’t the problem. It was that he was so damn frustrating.

“I’m going to request a different role," he said after a moment.

“Well so am I,” Sansa replied.

“We can’t both do it,” he said, frowning at her. “Professor Johnson will cast us as Hero and Claudio just to be funny.”

Sansa glowered at him, though she knew that he was right. The door finally opened to reveal their director, a seasoned actress with a love for Shakespeare’s romantic comedies.

“Ah yes! My two leads!” she said, clapping her hands happily.

“You have to recast me!” Jon and Sansa said at once.

She didn't look surprised in the least. Their rivalry wasn't exactly a covert one. Everyone in the school knew about it from day one.

“That is a big no. You will do this play in these roles or you will fail my class.”

They both looked at her with wide eyes.

“Why?” they demanded, again at the same time.

The professor grinned with what seemed like a mad glint in her eyes.

“You have delicious sexual tension! I intend to take full advantage of it!” she said, patting their shoulders before walking off with a jaunty skip in her step.

Sansa and Jon stared at each other, both stunned into silence at her words.


	17. Modern AU - Coke Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa can't find her name on a coke bottle and is bummed so Jon orders her one.

“I hate my name,” Sansa bemoaned, letting her head thump dramatically to the table.

Everyone around her fought the urge to roll their eyes, even her mother and father. They all knew that wasn’t true. Ever since she knew what a name meant, Sansa had adored her own, loving that it was not like any other name.

“None of us have a bottle with our name on it,” Arya reminded her.

Sansa looked over at her with narrowed eyes.

“Then I hate your name too,” she fired back petulantly before sitting back with a huff. “Even Margaery and Jeyne found bottles with their names.”

“They’re southern names, of course they did. They are far more common than yours,” Catelyn reminded her. “You used to love that.”

As Sansa launched into a diatribe about the unfairness of it all, the only one listening was Robb’s quiet best friend who leaned against the kitchen counter, silently taking in every word. Several weeks later, when he approached her in the hallway of their high school, her righteous indignation was all but forgotten.

“I got you something,” he said quietly, ducking his head as he handed the Coke bottle over.

Sansa looked at him with surprise and confusion, taking it from him.

“You really didn’t have to, Jon. I’m not that thirsty,” she said, twisting the cap off.

“Look at it."

With one more befuddled look at him, Sansa glanced down and her face lit up at what she saw on the label.

“You found one!” she gasped, reading her name.

“Actually, I ordered it,” he mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other as his cheeks flamed red.

Her blue eyes shone with delight when she looked up at him, thrilled with what he did for her.

“Thank you!” she cried happily, throwing her arms around his neck.

It was Jon’s turn to feel shocked when she pressed a long kiss to his lips. Sansa pulled away just as quickly, before he even had a chance to react, looking unembarrassed by her show of affection.

“I’m going to drink it and then keep the bottle forever,” she proclaimed, grasping his hand to drag him down the hallway with a surprising show of strength.

Jon couldn’t control the flush in his cheeks as she showed off the bottle. It was only the fact that Sansa was so pleased, and that her smaller hand was entwined with his, that kept him smiling the entire time.


	18. Canon AU - Jon is sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of them gets sick and the other tries to look after them but the sick one initially refuses.

“There must be more important things for you to do rather than look over me in my sickbed.”

Sansa shook her head from where she washed her hands in a basin. Jon was more stubborn than normal when he was sick, used to taking care of himself and uncomfortable with anyone else doting on him. As his wife, it was her duty and pleasure to ignore him.

“Sam and Davos are handling things for the next few days. I’m just fine where I am,” she said, wringing out a wet cloth before walking over to him.

He grumbled as he laid on the bed, his eyes tired and his nose slightly pink from rubbing it. HIs bottom lip jutted out slightly in an affronted pout. Sansa might have laughed at his pathetic appearance if it wouldn’t make him look even more pathetic.

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Jon huffed.

She didn't reply, pressing the cool cloth to his burning forehead.

“Sansa,” he sighed, reaching up to pull her hand away.

“Stop it, Jon. I didn’t ask for your permission. Now lie back, quiet down, and let your wife care for you,” Sansa said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jon’s mouth snapped shut and he watched her as she fussed over him. Finally, she pulled the furs up to his chin and placed a careful kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sansa smiled at him, knowing that he felt ashamed for his behavior.

“You’re welcome,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair.

He fell asleep to her soft singing, relishing in the fact that he had someone who loved him enough to care for him.


	19. Modern AU - Locked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know if I can go on like this any longer."

“I am going to kill them,” Sansa said in a low, seething voice.

Jon couldn’t see her, but he was willing to bet that the look in her eyes was thunderous. He didn’t know whether to be offended or not, choosing to simply stay silent. His mind whirled, trying to trace the events of the night that led to him being locked in a closet with his best friend’s little sister.

_“I bet you a hundred dollars that your best friend and my best friend would hook up, given the right circumstances,” Margaery said loudly, attracting the attention of everyone in the room._

_It was supposed to be a small gathering to honor Robb’s birthday. But in a collective attempt to prove every single stereotype, it digressed into an alcohol-fueled event that included a game of truth or dare, a failed attempt at spin the bottle, and finally a competition to see who could say the most outrageous statements. After Margaery’s proud proclamation, every eye in the room flitted back and forth between Jon and Sansa._

_“No way,” Robb said with a snort, shaking his head._

_“Why?” his girlfriend asked, pouting as she brandished her third beer at Sansa, whose face almost matched her flaming hair._

_“Because no one in their right minds would make that bet. Have you seen them around each other? They’re so repressed that it makes me want to lock them in a room so that they can get it over with,” Robb said, his words slightly slurred._

_In any normal situation, Jon knew that his friend would be threatening his life if he went anywhere near Sansa. But Robb wasn’t exactly in his right mind, causing most people in the room to gape at him._

_“I’ll take that bet,” Theon spoke up with a smirk, unable to resist. “They’re both too prudish to do anything, repressed or not.”_

_Every word that they spoke only solidified Jon’s resolve never to look Sansa in the eye again. Little did he know that Margaery and Robb were determined to make Theon pay up that hundred dollars._

“Can you break down the door or something?”

He still couldn’t see her in the dark of the small closet that they’d been stuffed into by their scheming friends, but he could feel the weight of her gaze upon him.

“Your faith in my strength is inspiring, but I don’t think that I can,” he replied quietly.

Sansa huffed out a sigh, leaning back against the wall with a thump. Once again, Jon felt like he should be insulted.

“Is it that bad?” he muttered, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“What?”

Jon wanted nothing more than to go back a few seconds and take it back, but she’d only press him to speak if he tried to stay quiet.

“Being stuck here with me? Is it that bad?” he asked louder.

His eyes finally began adjusting to the dark and he was able to distinguish the stunned look on her face.

“No! It’s just… I only meant… I wasn’t trying to…” Sansa huffed, clearly frustrated by her inability to say what she was thinking.

Jon had never, in all of his life, seen her so flustered and lost for words.

“I’m claustrophobic,” she said quickly, turning her face away from him.

He frowned, thinking back on their childhood. He’d known the Starks since birth and never once had he gotten the feeling that Sansa was afraid of small spaces. In fact, when they would play hide and seek, she would always find the smallest places to hide.

“Really?” he said doubtfully.

“No,” she said in a small voice. “That was a lie.”

Jon felt frustrated now, not liking the way that this was going.

“Sansa, what is it?” he asked in a more impatient voice than he usually used.

“Nothing."

It was his turn to sigh heavily as he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

“Fine,” Jon said shortly, unwilling to drag it out of her.

Several minutes of awkward silence passed between them before Sansa spoke once more, surprising him.

“I just don’t know if I can go on like this any longer,” she said in a rush.

Jon’s brow furrowed as he looked over at her.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“I’m tired of pretending,” Sansa sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Pretending?”

He couldn’t tell, but he thought that he saw an annoyed look on her face.

“Yes, Jon, pretending. Pretending like I haven’t had a ridiculous crush on you since I was thirteen-years-old,” she snapped, her voice making it clear that she was prepared for him to turn her down.

Jon just stared, unaware of how much time passed since her confession.

“Oh just say something, would you? Remind me that I’m Robb’s stupid little sister.”

“Sansa—”

“Or tell me that I’m too annoying to even imagine dating.”

“Sansa—”

“Even say that you don’t like me. Just stop being so damn quie—”

“Sansa Minisa Stark! Would you let me talk for a minute?”

She fell silent, her lips parted in shock at the sound of her full name on his lips. Jon stepped closer, reaching out for her hand. He entwined his fingers through hers, tugging her closer.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he said quietly before lowering his head.

Their lips met hesitantly, both trying to figure out if this felt right. As soon as warmth filled him, satisfaction rising in his chest, Jon pressed closer. Sansa responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pushed up onto her toes to kiss him deeply. His hand slid into her hair, playing with the silky strands as he nibbled at her lower lip. Pressing her back into the wall, his other hand went to her hip to grip it gently. Just as he began kissing his way down to her throat, the door was ripped open and light filled the small closet.

“I knew it! You owe me one hundred dollars, Greyjoy!” Margaery said triumphantly.

Theon’s blistering curses filled the house but neither Jon nor Sansa cared, continuing on in their passionate embrace.


	20. Modern AU - Author/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author of book gets seated next to someone reading their book and making entertaining faces at each scene.

When she boarded, Sansa was happy to discover that she was seated next to an attractive, quiet man that smelled of expensive cologne. She couldn't ask for anything better. Now, as the pilot announced their descent, she wasn’t sure what to think of him. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was reading over her shoulder. He wasn’t trying too hard to hide it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the changes in his expression each time she flipped a page. Sansa was torn between annoyance and admiration. After all, the faces that he was making were all kind of cute. Finally, she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye, taking him by surprise as she closed the book with an audible snap

“Okay, what’s your deal?” Sansa asked plainly.

Color quickly rose in his cheeks and she scolded herself, keeping a smile from forming on her lips. She was not going to let herself fall for his unfairly pretty eyes until she got an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice, running a hand through his hair. “I was just watching you read.”

She raised her eyebrow just as he realized how creepy that sounded.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Not like that. I just—”

He cut off, looking miserable and embarrassed.

“Why were you watching me?” Sansa pressed, refusing to admit that she liked the way his grey eyes didn’t shift away from hers even though he was clearly uncomfortable.

“I wanted to see your reactions to the book."

Sansa gave him a look, letting him know that she was no less confused by the poor explanation.

“It’s my book,” he said in a rush, looking like he would like a hole to bury himself in at that moment.

Sansa frowned at him.

“No, I bought this a week ago. I'm pretty sure it’s my book,” she said, wondering whether he was insane or not.

He shook his head.

“Not my book but… _my_ book,” he said, pointing at the cover. _  
_

Sansa looked down to see that he was gesturing to the author’s name and realization crashed down on her.

“You’re Jon Snow?” she said with wide eyes, looking up at him once more.

“Well, Jon Targaryen. My publisher suggested that I use a fake last name to avoid any expectations that came with my family name,” he said with a shrug, looking relieved that she finally understood.

She flipped the book over, opening it to the last page only to see his soulful eyes staring up at her from the book jacket. [The picture](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fcdn.cnwimg.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2014%2F02%2Fo-KIT-HARINGTON-facebook.jpg&t=N2RjOTBmOWFhZDgyMjg2NjMzOTg5NTVlMmFmZDk2MDkwZDI5MzZmNixhNjczNjdJOQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AEEJ1Jfp4Wr7KM62mimV2cw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhistoricbellamyblake-archive.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F103872506518%2Fauthor-of-book-gets-seated-next-to-someone-reading&m=1) was a good one, but it didn’t do justice to the man sitting next to her.

“Oh my God,” Sansa said, looking up at him with an apologetic expression. “I am so sorry.”

“I don't blame you. I'm sure that I did a pretty good job of creeping you out.”

They stared at each other for several moments before bursting into laughter at the same time.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting next to you. My brother recommended this book to me. He would be very jealous,” Sansa said once she recovered.

“So you like it?” Jon asked, gesturing to the book.

His eyes were hopeful and she couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked, allowing herself to admire him again.

“It’s amazing,” Sansa said with a nod.

“What’s your favorite part so far?” he questioned, unable to resist asking.

She considered it for a moment before the announcement came on overhead, informing them that they were landing in Chicago.

“Tell you what, go to dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you,” Sansa said brazenly, hoping that it would pay off.

Jon grinned at her, his face lighting up as his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Gladly."

Sansa beamed at him, silently thanking the book in her hands and Robb Stark for getting her a date.


	21. Modern AU - Fear of Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid of flying and you were incredibly helpful and tolerant and sweet about it AU

The plane wasn’t full by any means. It was too late in the day to attract a big crowd. Jon was already seated and buckled in when someone slipped into the seat next to him. The sweet smell of her perfume reached his nose before he caught sight of her auburn hair and warm smile.

“Hi Jon,” Sansa said softly.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes wide with surprise. “How are you, Sansa?”

She shrugged her shoulders, shoving her bag beneath the seat in front of her.

“I’m good. Busy with classes and stuff.”

He nodded, glancing over her to see how much she’d changed. Jon knew that Sansa attended a university in the same city where he worked and that they were both headed to the same place for the holidays, but the thought of ending up on the same plane never occurred to him. He looked around the cabin to see that many of the seats were open, much to his surprise. While their lives aligned closely as they grew up, they were never close with one another. Sensing his confusion, she spoke up again.

“I remember that you don’t like planes. I thought it might be nice to have a familiar face next to you,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jon stared at her speechlessly for several moments. Robb knew that about him and Arya might even have vague memories of him refusing to get on a plane unless it was absolutely necessary, but for Sansa to remember it was different. Before he could muster a response, the plane began pulling away from the gate and his heart began beating quicker. Jon turned, leaning his head back against the seat as he squeezed his eyes shut. He clenched his hands down on the armrests so tightly that his knuckles had to have been white, not that he was going to open his eyes to check. As the flight attendant gave them the safety speech, Jon focused on regulating his breathing as best he could. It seemed like only seconds later that the plane was picking up speed down the runway. He jumped slightly when slender fingers brushed over his, gently prying his hand away from the armrest. Jon turned his head, barely opening his eyes to see Sansa pulling his hand into hers, threading her fingers through his to squeeze lightly.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, reaching up to brush her other hand through his dark curls. “Just focus on me.”

Jon did just that, staring into her bright blue eyes. He barely even noticed when the plane lifted off from the ground, too busy focusing on the way that her long eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked and the way that her lips curved upwards perfectly. He always knew that Sansa was beautiful but he never really saw how gorgeous she was until. Robb may well kill him for ever thinking that, but he didn’t care at the moment.

“Thank you,” he breathed, realizing that she’d managed to completely distract him.

“You’re welcome,” Sansa said with a brilliant smile.

She leaned away from him, pulling out an iPad as well as her headphones.

"Wanna watch a movie with me?”

He accepted her offer eagerly, pulling his hand away from her so that she could set it up on the armrest between them. The flight went by quickly as he found himself more distracted than he thought possible not just by the movie, but by the presence of the young woman next to him. When the pilot announced their descent, Jon didn’t hesitate before reaching over to take her hand in his. Sansa gave him a smile and brushed her thumb over the back of his hand, perfectly happy to give him comfort.


	22. Modern AU - Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa draw each other for secret santa and have no idea what to get one another.

“I need your help.”

Robb slowly looked up from his cup of morning coffee to see his sister staring at him pleadingly. It was hard for anyone to deny Sansa what she wanted when she used this look and she knew it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not even trying to resist.

She slammed a piece of paper down on the table with a sigh, sitting down as she ran a hand through her long auburn hair.

“I drew Jon,” she mumbled.

He knew immediately what her problem was and knew that he had no choice but to help her. After all, it was his girlfriend who suggested that they do a Secret Santa exchange among their friends and it was his best friend that Sansa drew out of the hat. From the way that she was biting down on her lower lip, this was something that stressed Sansa out more than she’d like to admit.

“I’ll help you if you don’t tell Margaery. I think we’re breaking the rules,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Her face broke out in a relieved grin and she nodded in agreement.

“Just between us, then,” Sansa agreed.

Robb nodded before sitting back as he thought of the possible things that Jon would like.

*****

“I need your help.”

This time, a day after his conversation with Sansa, he was sprawled out on the couch watching a soccer game. Jon had been pacing for several minutes before sitting down on an armchair, his body filled with tension.

“I think I’ve had this conversation before,” Robb muttered, straightening up.

He waved off Jon’s confused look.

“Let me guess… Secret Santa.”

Jon nodded, rubbing at his jaw.

“I drew your sister,” he said quietly.

Robb was tempted to laugh out loud but he refrained, knowing that it would only attract Sansa and Margaery from the kitchen where they were making sugar cookies. He settled with just chuckling quietly. Jon narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment on his amusement.

“I have no idea what to get her,” he admitted.

How he got in this situation twice, he had no idea. But he would go along with it. After all, it would be funny to see their reactions when they figured out that they drew each other.

“Don’t tell Marge,” Robb said conditionally before leaning in to brainstorm ideas.

*****

When it came time to exchange gifts, Robb sat back and watched the scene before him, ignoring the present from Arianne for the moment. Sansa and Jon looked stunned when they exchanged presents. Margaery simply looked satisfied, a grin on her face.

“You couldn’t possibly have planned this,” he whispered to her.

“Who do you think sent them your way?” she said in a low voice.

If there was one thing that he knew, it was never to underestimate his girlfriend’s devious nature. Everyone’s eyes were on Jon and Sansa as they unwrapped their presents. Sansa managed to get hers undone first, gasping with delight when she opened the box to see a dozen powdered lemon cakes from her favorite bakery that happened to be two hours away.

“Jon, how did you know?” she breathed.

“Lucky guess,” he said with a nervous smile, forgetting about his own present in the wake of the bright look on her face.

Sansa carefully set the box aside before flinging herself at him, almost tackling him off of the chair he was on as she hugged him tightly.

“It’s perfect,” she said happily, pulling away to beam at him.

“Jon hasn’t opened his yet,” Margaery called, reminding them.

Sansa flushed, glancing around at their audience before bending down to pick up the fallen present, unmoving from Jon’s lap as she handed it to him. The stressed look returned as she watched him open it. It was a miracle that her bottom lip wasn’t split from the way she kept worrying it with her teeth. When he finally got the wrapping paper undone, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the photo album. As he flipped through it wordlessly, Sansa looked like she might explode at the silence.

“I know that you don’t have many pictures of your mom. I went through all of the pictures in dad’s office and found a bunch from when they were friends as kids and teenagers and around when she had you. I thought you would like to have them all together. I can get you a better gift if you want but—”

Jon cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers in a split-second decision. When he pulled away, her lips were parted slightly and her eyes were wide with surprise. Then a soft smile formed on her face and she leaned in to kiss him again, to the surprise of absolutely no one in the room.

“I love it,” he murmured against her lips.

“Good,” Sansa sighed, curling her fingers into his hair.

They spent the rest of the night curled up together, eating lemon cakes and silently thanking Margaery for her idea. Robb spent the rest of the night with an enduring pride in his chest, both in himself and his devious girlfriend.


	23. Modern AU - The 100

She never had guard duty. Robb was still too protective of her to allow her to patrol the perimeter of the camp, either alone or with a partner. But Sansa hated being singled out and she was determined to do her part. Jon was the perfect target, too quiet and polite to send her away. The first time she showed up at his post, he gave her a questioning look but didn’t argue with her presence. The second time, he handed her his gun and gave her a quick tutorial on how to use it. After that, it became somewhat of a habit. After everyone went to their tents, she would slip out of hers and tiptoe across the camp to join him.

“Why do you come here?” Jon asked one night, looking at her curiously.

She knew that he would ask one day. The answer was easy.

“You don’t look at me like the girl who was found underneath the floor," Sansa said honestly, staring up at the stars in the sky. "You look at me like a person. You treat me equally to everyone else.

She risked a glance his way, seeing surprise in his eyes. Giving him a shrug, she glanced down at her lap.

"It’s refreshing."

That was the first night that they kissed, her fingers tangled in his hair and his hands on her hips. After that, she didn’t just sneak out of her tent for guard duty. Robb was too busy with Margaery, alternating between fighting and sharing a tent. She thought he didn’t notice until he found her sorting rations with Pyp and Grenn one day. Giving them a look, he sent them away and sat next to her.

“There are worse people for you to sneak around with."

She knew that was the closest to a blessing that they would get. When Robb handed her a gun of her own, she felt a thrill of satisfaction and hugged him around the neck to give him a smacking kiss on his cheek. Then she hurried away to tell Jon, leaving her brother behind as he laughed. He wasn’t quite so amused when he caught them kissing the next day but she didn’t care, sending him away with a careless flick of her hand as she pulled Jon down to kiss her again.


	24. Modern AU - Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding jitters with Arya as maid of honor.

The day had gone smoothly so far, from breakfast with her mother and father to getting ready for the ceremony. It wasn’t until she stood in front of the full-length mirror that she felt a rise of panic and fear. It wasn’t her appearance. Her hair was curled and braided into an intricate bun and the dress was perfect. Sansa looked down, brushing her fingertips over the sparkling crystals that were stitched into the bodice.

“Are you all right?” Margaery said, noticing how her hands trembled.

She attempted to take a deep breath, looking up at herself once more. Her eyes suddenly grew wide and her chest constricted as she took a step back.

“I can’t.”

She turned away from the mirror, tugging at the laces on her dress.

“Sansa!”

Margaery and Roslin, both her bridesmaids, seized her hands to stop her from undoing the dress. Jeyne rushed forward with a cool bottle of water as if she’d been expecting this. Arya looked panicked as well, hovering nearby and clearly uncertain of how she could help.

“I’m such a fool,” Sansa said, allowing her friends to lead her to the chaise lounge.

She sat down slowly as her friends tried to arrange the layers of tulle and fabric so that it wouldn’t get in her way and wrinkle.

“What’s wrong?” Roslin asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She leaned over, putting her face in her hands.

“Don’t you cry. I spent too long on that face of yours,” Margaery said teasingly.

Sansa shook her head.

“Jon never told me that he wanted to marry,” she said, sitting up to look at them. “What if he is only doing this, all of this, for me?”

Her three friends exchanged stunned looks, each of them searching for what to say.

“That’s stupid!”

Margaery, Jeyne, and Roslin all glanced at Arya with wide eyes, shaking their heads. She ignored them, stepping towards her sister.

“Go away,” Arya said, waving them off.

Sansa felt torn between laughing and bursting into tears.

“Jon wouldn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do,” the younger Stark girl said as she sat down beside her older sister. “Even marry you.”

The rest of the bridesmaids slipped out of the room, hoping that Arya had this under control.

“What if he decides that he doesn’t want this? What if he changes his mind in a year?” Sansa asked, her fears pouring out.

“That’s even stupider,” Arya told her bluntly.

She looked at her hopefully.

“Is it?”

“Jon’s been as good as my brother since I was a baby. Do you really think I would approve of him doing anything like getting married if I didn’t know that it’s exactly what he wants to do? Even to you.”

Sansa didn’t answer, considering her words carefully.

“I’m terrified,” she said quietly as if it was a horrible secret.

“You’d be dumb if you weren’t,” Arya said, leaning in to bump her shoulder.

Sansa finally smiled, reaching down to take her hand.

“I was right."

Arya gave her a confused look.

“You make an amazing maid of honor,” Sansa told her.

Her sister flushed, looking pleased at the words.

“And you’re an acceptable bride, I guess,” Arya shrugged.

They exchanged a look, watching the other for a few moments before they both burst into laughter. Several moments of shared amusement passed before the door opened and Catelyn poked her head in.

“Are we ready?” she asked, looking between her daughters.

Arya looked at Sansa, waiting for her to answer.

“Yes,” she nodded, reaching out to pick up her bouquet. “I am ready.”

They both stood at once but before Arya could go anywhere, Sansa pulled her into a quick, tight hug. 

“Thank you,” she whispered before pulling away.

“It’s whatever,” Arya shrugged, reaching out to adjust her veil. “Let’s go get you married now.”

Sansa nodded, smoothing down her dress.

“Yes, let's do that."


	25. Canon AU - Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm with child."

Sansa curled her fingers into her skirts, lifting them from the floor as she quickly ascended the winding steps to the lord’s solar. She didn’t bother to knock, pushing it open and stepping inside. Jon didn’t glance up at first, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding a quill. There were parchments scattered across his writing desk and books surrounding him on the floor. She smiled at the sight of him, leaning back against the heavy wood door to close it with a click. The sound finally roused Jon from his trance and he turned his head to look at her. The frustrated crease between his brows disappeared as he sighed and sat up straight, dropping the quill.

“You work too much,” she informed him.

“So I’m told,” Jon said, not even bothering to deny it.

Sansa shook her head, walking over to him.

“I would like to see you spend a little less time up in this dark, musky room,” she said, sorting his hair out from its disarray.

“Where would you have me instead?” Jon questioned, reaching out to put his hands on her hips.

She let him pull her down in his lap, putting her hand on his chest to steady herself. He dressed much like her father did, in simple woolen breeches and a leather jerkin. His cloak was discarded on another chair across the room.

“I would have you in the glass gardens,” Sansa said, tracing his jawline with her fingers. “Or perhaps riding with me through the Wolfswood.”

Jon tilted his head up, looking into her eyes with a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Or perhaps in the godswood… in the hot springs,” she said, lowering her voice slightly as she brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. “Our bedchamber is always an alternative.”

“In the afternoon?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Especially in the afternoon."

She leaned down, touching her lips to his in a light kiss. Jon hummed against her mouth, deepening the kiss for several moments before pulling away.

“Perhaps I can change your opinion of this room,” he suggested, weaving his fingers through her silky auburn hair.

“I’m certain that you could,” Sansa said with a laugh, putting her hand on his cheek. “But in a few moons, the climb will be far too much effort for me.”

Jon looked at her with confusion, tilting his head to the side.

“You see,” she continued, reaching down to take his hand in hers. “I will be carrying much more weight around and I’ve heard that my feet will be terribly sore.”

She laid his hand over her still-flat stomach, waiting for him to understand. Jon’s eyes widened and he let out a soft murmur of her name. As his hand pressed closer to her, she smiled at him.

“Are you…?” Jon didn’t finish, waiting for her to say the words.

“I’m with child,” she said softly, dropping her forehead to press against his. “Our child.”

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for just a moment. Then they were both on their feet as he swept Sansa into his arms. She laughed once more as he held her close and whirled her around in a circle, letting out a joyous laugh. It was something she hardly heard during their childhood, much to her shame. Now she did whatever she could to make him laugh like that as much as possible. As Jon set her on her feet, he pulled away to kneel down before her.

“Our child,” he breathed, putting both hands on her belly.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

She stroked her fingers through his hair as he pressed his face into her stomach and whispered prayers of thanks to the old gods. Sansa didn’t bother to wipe her tears away, knowing that they came from joy rather than sorrow. She tilted her head back, smiling at the heavens in thanks for this life that she’d been given. Then he was standing again and pulling her into his arms. Sansa barely emitted a word of surprise before he was kissing her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, responded in kind to his passionate embrace. They swayed on the spot, both smiling into the kiss.

“Perhaps a visit to our bedchamber is in order,” Jon said, taking her hand in his.

Sansa grinned as they hurried to his solar door, their fingers entwined and their laughter echoing through the halls of Winterfell.


	26. Modern AU - Wrong Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I meant to text the contact one above you in my phone’s contact list for a booty call but I didn’t realize I hit your name until I sent it so now I’m just sitting here feeling those little three dots hardcore judging me."

Sansa was as nonchalant about it as possible, sipping on her hot tea as she typed out the text. It was only when she saw the contact name just as she pressed send that her heart dropped in her chest. Margaery let out a disgruntled noise as Sansa spewed tea all over the table. As she coughed and sputtered, her best friend thumped her back in an attempt to help her.

“It’s a disaster,” she managed to say, waving the phone in her face.

Margaery took it, letting out a loud laugh when she realized what happened. Sansa gave her a betrayed look, hoping to get more sympathy than that.

“It is not funny.”

“Oh, it’s funnier than I can even describe. You just sent a booty call text to your brother’s best friend, the famously grim Jon Snow. I’d have to be as humorless as him to _not_ laugh,” Margaery replied, shaking her head with a grin.

She glared at her, snatching the phone away.

“He is not grim or humorless,” Sansa corrected her.

“So you sent it on purpose then?”

“No!”

“Mmm,” Margaery hummed, sounding like she didn’t quite believe her.

Sansa opened her mouth to say something else but snapped it closed as soon as she saw the small grey bubble appear below the text in question.

“Oh God, he’s about to answer,” she said, wondering if this situation could get worse.

Any hope that she had that he would ignore the text for her sake disappeared.

“Maybe he’s onboard and you’ll finally get to satisfy that crush you’ve had on him for years,” Margaery said, reaching over to pat her shoulder distractedly.

She was already back to reading her book and sipping at her coffee.

“These dots are mocking me!” Sansa cried, wondering if it could possibly be any worse.

She was already humiliated enough. If Jon told Robb, he would surely let it slip to Arya and then everyone would know. Everyone would _laugh._

“I can’t look,” she said with a shake of her head, tossing the device on the table before burying her face in her hands.

Just as she let out a disgruntled whine, her phone chirped happily. Sansa glared at it through her fingers, half hoping that it was a text from someone else. Margaery picked it up when she didn’t, laughing once more when she read the text.

“What?” Sansa said, looking up at her.

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug, handing the phone over. “It’s just that this is going to be a hell of a first date story.”

She took it, her eyes wide as she dared to look down at the screen. Sansa’s mouth dropped open at the sight of his response.

 **[Jon]** Let’s start with dinner first and see where that leads us.

A smile slowly formed on her face. Sansa couldn’t quite believe that he didn’t immediately either feel disgusted or amused.

 **[Sansa]** Really?

 **[Jon]** Just tell me when and where.

She let out a delighted laugh, realizing that the mistake was a happy one.

*****

It turned out to be a great first date story. Margaery retold it three times at Sansa’s bachelorette party. The next day, Sansa and Jon got married.


	27. Modern AU - Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, I left my student ID in my room and you’re the first person who’s walked by my building for hours now, I hate to be such a bother but can you pretty please swipe me in, it’s freezing."

Not only was it dark outside, but Sansa was fairly certain that the temperature had dropped below freezing about twenty minutes ago. No amount of pacing in front of the door of her dormitory or blowing on her numb hands could warm her up. When she heard the telltale sound of boots crunching on snow, she debated whether to ask for help or just hide in the shadow of the building so that they wouldn’t see her. It wasn’t that her university campus was unsafe but she was conscious of the dangers of being out at midnight with no one around. When she recognized a head of familiar dark curls, she instantly relaxed and let out a soft sigh. He must have been in the library studying, judging by the books that he had in his arms.

“Jon,” Sansa said, stepping forward onto the sidewalk.

He started at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting for someone to be out this late. Sansa didn’t plan on it either but Margaery lived on the other side of town and they were having their weekly girls night at her apartment. She accidentally left her ID in her dorm room so there was no way for her to get inside.

“Sansa,” he said, looking even more surprised to see that it was her.

They really only saw one another if he happened to be with Robb when they crossed paths on the campus.

“I left my keycard up in my room and I can’t get inside,” she said, aware that her teeth were chattering as she shivered. “Is there any way that you could let me in?”

“Of course,” Jon said, his eyes wide as he hurried to the door.

Sansa followed him, torn between crying out of relief and hugging him tightly. She was certain that the sound of the door opening was the best thing she’d heard in her life. As she stepped inside, she turned to face Jon as he turned to walk away.

“Where are you headed?”

Jon turned back with wide eyes, adjusting the books in his arms.

“They finally kicked me out of the library. I was headed home,” he said with a shrug.

She considered her next move carefully before tilting her head to the side.

“I’m not really that tired. I was going to make myself some hot chocolate if you want some,” she offered.

Jon stared at her for several moments, his lips parted slightly.

“Jon?”

He snapped out of it, blinking at her several times.

“Your roommate,” he said, shifting in place as he rubbed at his jaw nervously.

“I’m one of the lucky ones with a private room,” Sansa said with a smile. “Please come in. I owe you one.”

He didn’t argue again, following her into the building and upstairs to her room. She opened the door with her key, flipping the light on before stepping aside to let him in.

“Set your stuff down wherever you want,” she said, tossing her purse on her bed.

Jon sat at her small table and tucked his belongings underneath the chair, looking like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Once Sansa stripped off her jacket and scarf, she quickly got two mugs of milk ready, sticking them in her microwave to get hot.

“I only have the instant stuff. It’s not as good as my mom makes but it’ll have to do,” Sansa said, pulling her tangled hair back into a loose ponytail. “How are you doing with classes?”

She sat down across from him, kicking her shoes off and propping one of her feet up on the chair with her knee to her chest.

“They’re good,” Jon said with a nod.

Sansa knew that he felt awkward around her. They hadn’t spent much time together, especially not alone.

“Robb told me that you have criminology with Professor Mormont. That must be fascinating.”

As soon as she said the words, his eyes lit up and he leaned forward slightly.

“He’s brilliant, really. I never thought I’d learn so much in just a few months,” he said, sounding passionate about it.

She smiled at his enthusiasm.

“I’ve heard that about him. He’s pretty tough though, yeah?”

“Yeah but as long as you pay attention and actually participate in the class discussions, you’ll get through all right. He respects people with opinions of their own,” Jon said with a shrug.

“Then he must respect you a lot,” she said, grinning at him as the microwave beeped.

Jon flushed, ducking his head as she stood up. Sansa pulled the mugs out and mixed the chocolate powder into the milk.

“How are you doing with your classes?” he asked, watching as she dropped marshmallows into the hot liquid.

“They’re great!” she said brightly, beaming at him as she slid his mug towards him. “I was nervous to try a nursing program but I think that I’m doing all right. I leaned towards pediatric nursing but one of the instructors at a nearby hospital recommended trying out a trauma program. He thinks I can handle myself in an emergency.”

Jon sipped at her hot chocolate, humming as the drink warmed him from the inside.

“And if all else fails, you can comfort them with hot, sugary drinks,” he said lightly.

Sansa let out a laugh, nodding in agreement as she sat down once more. They spent the next near hour sitting there, discussing everything from her family to the university’s unfortunate cafeteria and their respective jobs, Sansa as a waitress and Jon both interning at a legal aid office and working as a bartender downtown.

“You’re really going for this lawyer thing, aren’t you?” Sansa asked, leaning forward with her arms crossed on top of the table.

“Yeah I am,” Jon nodded, looking at her. “You don’t think I’ll be good at it?”

“I think you’ll be great at it,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she studied him. “You’ve always liked helping people and I know that you’ll do some real good at some big firm in New York City or Chicago. After all, as you proved tonight, you are a natural hero.”

He looked pleased with her words, setting down his empty cup.

“And you’ll be a great nurse. I know I’d be happy to wake up with you at my bedside,” Jon told her.

Sansa looked at him with wide eyes, letting out what could only be described as a giggle.

“Jon Snow, are you flirting with me?”

“Might be,” he said, clearly feeling more confident after talking with her for a while. “Is that okay with you?”

She smiled at him, leaning back in her chair.

“Might be,” she replied, mimicking his voice.

Jon huffed out a laugh, looking rather pleased. When he saw the clock on her bedside table, his eyes widened and he shook his head.

“I should get going,” he said, looking apologetic.

“Yeah,” Sansa nodded, knowing that she shouldn’t keep him around for much longer.

She waited as he gathered his stuff, bundling up again and throwing his bag over his shoulder. Once he was ready, Sansa opened the door for him. Before he could walk out, she caught his arm and stepped closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” Sansa said quietly, pulling away to look up at him.

He nodded, swallowing hard. She watched as he stepped out into the hallway before turning back to her.

“I want to do this again,” Jon said quickly, sounding nervous.

“Me too.”

He looked hopeful, perking up immediately.

“You want to have coffee in a couple of days?"

She felt a thrill of happiness and nodded quickly.

“I’m free Sunday afternoon,” Sansa said.

Jon looked relieved, taking a step backwards.

“I’ll pick you up."

“I’m already looking forward to it,” she replied with a shy smile, leaning against her doorway.

He gave her a rare grin, turning to walk away with a bounce in his step. Sansa watched him disappear down the hallway before closing her door. As she leaned against it, she let out a quiet squeal and did a little dance. All of the sudden, she was very happy that she’d been locked out in the snow.


	28. Canon AU - King and Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smutty smut

A few years had passed since Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, took his place on the Iron Throne. Yet his victory over both the Lannisters and the Others was still celebrated each year with a week of banquets, jousts, masques, and other joyous revelry. The only thing that kept him sane throughout was the woman who sat at his side.

“They wish to show their appreciation for their king,” Sansa said as they walked from the Great Hall after a long banquet that went late into the night.

“Does their appreciation have to last so long?” he muttered, rubbing at his jaw.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at his grumbling.

“You ushered the Seven Kingdoms into peace after so many years of war. They could celebrate for months and it would still not be enough to show you how loved you are in every corner of Westeros,” Sansa said, giving him with a stern look that reminded him so much of her mother sometimes.

“ _We_ are loved,” Jon corrected her, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.

It was true. However many people shouted his name and sang songs about his bravery, many more proclaimed the beauty, grace, and kindness of his queen. As they entered Maegor’s Holdfast, Sansa stopped and turned towards him.

“Are you so tired that you would rather sleep in your own chambers tonight?” she asked, peeking up at him through her lashes.

A thrill of desire went through him at her suggestive tone.

“Not at all,” Jon replied, his voice lower than before.

Sansa smiled, stepping backward as she trailed her fingers over his doublet from his collar to his waist.

“Good,” she breathed, turning around to walk away.

He followed her without thinking, as if she held an invisible leash to tug him along. Upon reaching her chambers, Sansa led the way into her solar and Jon shut the door quietly. He leaned back against it and watched as she turned to face him, removing her jewelry and crown to set them all on a nearby table. Her eyes were filled with want and her skin was already flushed with desire. Jon pushed himself forward, cradling her face in his hands and looking down in her darkened eyes.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to the bed,” he said, his voice rough with lust.

Sansa shivered lightly, leaning forward to lightly brush her lips over his. Before he could respond, she nipped at his lower lip, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. She drew away with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“I’m going to bed. It’s up to you whether you want to follow me or not.”

There was a slight sway to her hips as she walked towards the door to her bedchamber, pulling pins out of her hair along the way. Once her long, silky locks were free, she paused in the doorway and glanced at him over her shoulder, smiling as she began to tug at the laces of her dress. Once more he followed her, unlacing his doublet as he went. Casting it away to the floor as soon as he stepped into the bedchamber, he didn’t let her finish undressing, catching her hands and pulling them away before unlacing her dress himself. As she pulled her arms out of the sleeves and pushed the gown down to her hips, he freed his tunic from his breeches and lifted it over his head. Sansa turned to face him, dressed only in her shift, smallclothes, and stockings.

Jon kicked off his boots before stepping forward, gathering her in his arms. This time he did not let her get away with a soft kiss, capturing her lips and kissing her deeply. Sansa wound one arm around his shoulders, pressing herself close to him. He moaned against her lips as she reached between them with her other hand, rubbing at his cock through his breeches. Pulling away with a single-minded focus, he fisted his hands in her shift and pulled it over her head. Sansa did not reach to cover herself as she did so many years ago on their wedding night. Instead, she sat back on the bed, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and tilting her head back to look up at him. Desire coiled in his belly as he reached down, brushing his hand over the swell of her breast. She bit down on her lip, rubbing her thighs together and whimpering when he stroked her light pink nipple with his thumb.

After teasing her for a moment, Jon kneeled before her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as he pulled her stockings off one at a time and tossed them away. His hands started at her ankles, slowly make their way upwards as she sighed and looked to the ceiling, allowing him to spread her legs. When his lips touched the inside of her knee, she began trembling with need. Jon took his time, pressing gentle, wet kisses to her inner thighs, much to her frustration. She tried to clamp her legs together but he managed to keep them apart, finally pressing a kiss to her cloth-covered cunt. Sansa let out a keening noise as he nosed at her womanhood through the fabric of her smallclothes, falling back onto the bed with a light thump. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders, one heel digging into his back and the other foot stroking over his spine.

“Jon,” she breathed, arching her back as he teased her.

He couldn’t wait to taste her, to lick and suck at her cunt until she peaked with a shout of his name. But Jon moved upwards, earning a sharp hiss of annoyance from his wife as he circled her navel with his tongue and gripped her hips with his hands.

“You are cruel,” Sansa accused him, digging her nails into his back as he traced a path over her body with his lips and tongue.

He didn’t respond, simply smiling before running his tongue over her nipple. She let out a cry, tossing her head back as he closed his lips around the hardened peak and flicked over it with his tongue again and again. Reaching up, he rolled the other nipple between his finger and thumb before switching. Sansa gripped at his hair tightly, letting out breathy sighs and quiet moans. Jon pulled away, pushing up onto his elbows as she huffed and let her arms fall to the bed. Her cheeks were as flushed as the rest of her body and her lips were slightly parted. He couldn’t resist kissing her, grinding his hips against hers as she wrapped her legs around him. She whined at the friction, moving with him desperately. Jon reached between them, untying her smallclothes and shoving them away before parting her folds with his fingers. Sansa shuddered as he stroked one finger up the length of her womanhood, circling her clit teasingly as she rocked against his hand.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, his lust increasing as he felt her wetness on his fingers.

“Gods,” Sansa whimpered, twisting her hands in the blankets beneath her as he began kissing his way back down her body.

Jon didn’t bother with teasing her this time, hooking her legs over his shoulders before stroking his tongue over her folds. She arched her back, crying out for more as he circled her entrance before licking one long strip all the way up to her clit, alternating between flicking and circling the sensitive nub before giving equal attention to the rest of her cunt.

“Jon please,” she pleaded, running her fingers through his hair. “Please, please, don’t stop!”

He gently scraped his teeth over her clit, drawing a moan out of her that had heat shooting straight to his groin. Sansa moved her hips against his mouth, desperate for more, and Jon carefully slid one finger into her, pressing it in and out slowly as he focused his tongue's attention on her clit. She let out a loud shout of his name when he slid a second finger into her and curled them both just right. He knew that anyone left wandering the castle could likely hear but he didn’t care, only focused on her pleasure. Her legs tightened around his head, her body growing taut as she climbed higher and higher. Finally, her peak rolled over her and she sobbed out her release, pulling at his hair just hard enough to make him groan as he slowed down until his feverish licks turned into small kisses to her sensitive cunt. When he pulled away, he looked up to see her splayed out over the blankets with a heaving chest and half-closed eyes. Jon wiped his mouth and stood, stretching out his cramped muscles. Sansa looked up, smiling slightly as he brushed the back of his knuckles over the soft skin of her abdomen. The taste of her still lingered in his mouth and caused his lips to lift as well.

“I love the taste of your sweet cunt,” he proclaimed, causing her to blush as he unlaced his breeches.

Despite her reaction, he knew that the filthy words renewed her desire when she pressed her thighs together and inhaled sharply. Once he was rid of the rest of his clothes, Jon climbed onto the bed and pulled her up for a deep kiss. Sansa draped herself over him, her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders and her legs straddling his. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his length. He exhaled against her mouth, barely resisting the urge to thrust into her hand as she stroked him slowly.

“Shall I tease you as you did to me, my love?” Sansa breathed in his ear, brushing her thumb over the tip of his cock.

“No,” he said all too quickly, drawing a laugh out of her.

“Luckily for you, I am not as cruel as my husband,” she said with a grin.

Jon’s hands wrapped around her hips as she lifted herself up, positioning him at her entrance. Sansa sank down on him slowly, taking her time. Once he was fully seated inside her, he buried his face in her hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” he groaned as her walls tightened around him.

Sansa whimpered at the curse, digging her nails into his shoulders as she rocked back and forth slowly. Jon knew that she had liked it when the words he spoke were less than pretty. It was a habit leftover from being at war and with men for too long. He spoke carefully around her for a time, afraid that it would disgust her. But the first time she took him into her mouth and he responded with something less than couth, her answering moan took them both by surprise. Ever since then he knew that she was far from disgusted by such language.

“Seven hells, Sansa,” he muttered as her movements quickened. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She pushed him onto his back, planting her hands on his chest as she rolled her hips in smooth, quick motions. When she raked her nails down his chest, it sent a jolt of pleasure through his body. Jon gripped her hips with his hands, meeting her movements with thrusts of his own. As she reached between them to rub at her clit, Jon knew that he was close. Angling his cock to line up with that sweet spot inside of her, he snapped his hips upwards and drew a cry of pleasure out of her. Their movements grew feverish and their words breathless and incoherent.

Sansa came first, still sensitive from her first release. Her walls clenched around his cock, sending him careening over the edge as he let out a hoarse shout of her name and spilled within her. Sansa barely managed to hold herself up long enough to let him pull out of her before collapsing on his chest. Their legs tangled together and they were lying sideways on their messy bed. Her head was pillowed over his heart and she stroked her fingers over his skin as she listened to his heartbeat slow down. Jon trailed his fingers along her spine, his eyes closed and his body relaxed and languid in the wake of their lovemaking.

“I love you,” he breathed, looking down at her as best she could.

Sansa tilted her head up with a sweet smile, leaning up to kiss him briefly.

“I love you,” she replied, kissing him once more before laying her head on his chest again.

They stayed that way for a very long time, luxuriating in the mere presence of one another.


	29. Modern AU - Thief x Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Person A is a thief and Person B is an assassin. They meet when Person A breaks into the house of the person that B is assassinating. You decide what happens next.

Sansa could always move silently, especially when she was on the job. So when she heard the creak of a floorboard, she knew that it wasn’t her that caused it. Carefully, she bent down and pulled a small blade out of her boot. It was supposed to be an easy grab. In and out with no trouble. Pressing herself against the wall, she watched warily as a shadowed figure stepped into the hallway. He was a few inches taller than her, lean yet still well-muscled. Sansa knew better than to take her chances against him. Moving slowly, she backed towards the other end of the hall in the hope that she could sneak away and either get what she came for or get out. Apparently he had super senses because he was suddenly facing her and a gun was pointed at the middle of her forehead. Sansa stopped in place, holding her hands up by her head, the small blade still in her right hand.

“You’re good,” she acknowledged, her eyes flitting over him.

Everything from the gun in his hand to the way he held himself told her that he was a professional. His eyes glinted silver in the moonlight that streamed through a nearby window and a few dark curls were coming out of the black beanie on his head.

“Don’t feel too bad. It’s not easy to sneak past me,” he replied, his voice quiet and deep.

“I’m getting that," she said with a small smile. "But there's always a first time for everything."

“You’re cheeky for someone who has a gun to their head.”

Sansa shrugged, twirling the knife in her hand as he watched her.

“I doubt I’m your target,” she said simply.

His eyes narrowed slightly as the gun wavered in his hand. She was right.

“I take it that you’re the one who turned off the security system."

“You’re welcome,” Sansa replied.

They stared each other down, neither willing to give up.

“I don’t know who gave you your information but it’s bad. There’s a banquet at Lannister Industries tonight. _He_ will be there,” she informed him.

“I don’t know who gave you your information but that banquet was canceled. He’s on his way home right now and I intend to be the first one to him so you may as well turn around and leave.”

It was Sansa’s turn to frown at him.

“I’m not here to kill him, as satisfying as that would be. He has something valuable and I want it.”

“You’re a thief,” he said, a hint of derision in his voice.

“I’m a _great_ thief,” Sansa corrected him. “At least I’m not a paid assassin.”

“What makes you think I’m getting paid?”

She grinned, finally lowering her hands.

“So this is personal?” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Get it line. You’re not the only one who hates Joffrey Baratheon.”

He dropped his arm, holding the gun tightly at his side.

“There are more people in this world that hate him than that like him.”

“True, but we’re the only ones standing in the middle of his house. I want to steal from him. You want to kill him. You go your way and I’ll go mine,” Sansa replied, trying to solve this easily.

“Sounds good to-” he cut off when they both heard the telltale sign of the front door opening.

A string of quiet curses slipped out of Sansa’s mouth as he gave her a look that screamed _I told you so_. Looking around for an exit, she let out a soft noise of surprise when he grabbed her arm and tugged her into a closet, closing the door behind them. They were pressed tight against one another in the close quarters, Sansa’s eyes level with his mouth and his arm loosely wrapped around her waist to keep her in place. Her hands braced against to his chest to keep her steady and their quiet breaths mingled in the air.

“If you wanted to get me in a small dark place, all you had to do was ask,” she whispered.

Sansa wasn’t sure, but she thought that she might have seen the corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

“We probably shouldn’t talk,” he suggested.

“But how would I get to know you if we don’t talk?” Sansa replied, putting a bit of mock whine in her voice.

This time, she definitely knew that there was a smile threatening to form on his lips. They heard footsteps and both stood perfectly still, waiting until they faded.

“Sansa,” she said, her voice quiet and raspy.

“Hmm?”

“My name. It’s Sansa,” she informed him.

He looked surprised, his eyes widening as he looked down at where she stood mere inches away.

“Jon,” he replied.

Sansa grinned up at him, stepping away as much as she could.

“Nice to meet you,” she said before opening the door and darting out into the hallway.

“He could be anywhere,” Jon hissed, following her out.

“I’m sure you’ll distract him for me,” Sansa said with a wink before turning to walk down the hallway.

She felt his gaze on her until she stepped out of sight, unable to keep her mind from wandering back to the assassin even as she made it out with her prize in a pouch on her belt. As Sansa disappeared into the night, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever seen him again.


	30. Modern AU - Law School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve never talked to you before but the teacher just used us as an example for a scenario where we are married.”

“Sansa…”

She lifted her head, glancing up at her professor with her purple pen still held between her lips. Her cheeks grew warm when she saw the entire class staring at her. Clearly, she had missed something.

“... and Jon. Come up here,” Professor Mordane said, gesturing to the front of the classroom.

The pen hit her desk with a clatter as she dropped her jaw in surprise. Slowly rising to her feet, she saw someone else doing the same from the corner of her eye. It was Jon Snow, someone she’d seen in this class and others. They had never spoken before but Sansa knew that he and her brother ran in the same circles so he had to be a year older than her. His dark hair was tied back today instead of hanging in his eyes so she could see that he looked just as hesitant as she felt. As they took their places on either side of their Family Law professor, they wondered at once what was going on.

“You’re getting a divorce,” she said, nodding between them.

“What?”

Professor Mordane looked between them as they spoke at the same time, her eyebrow lifting and an unimpressed look forming on her face.

“For the purpose of the exercise,” she sighed, shaking her head as she stepped forward.

Sansa briefly met Jon’s gaze before looking away with red cheeks. They were both assigned lawyers and quickly realized that this was a rundown of a simple custody hearing. They were given ten minutes to come up with a reason why they should have primary custody of their nonexistent child before they had to present the case to their class, who was playing the part of the jury. It was actually an interesting exercise and Sansa found that she enjoyed taking part in it. That was until the end when Mordane jokingly told them to kiss and make up as the rest of the class laughed. She fled to her chair, letting her red hair form a curtain around her face as she scribbled down comments on the mock case. Sansa didn’t lift her head much at all until class came to an end. She shoved her things in her bag and slung it over her shoulder before hurrying for the door. As she stepped out into the hallway, she was busy pulling out her phone to text Jeyne about what happened and didn’t see the person in front of her until she walked right into him.

“I am so sorry,” she gasped, looking up at whoever had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of her clumsiness.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw _him_ staring back at her.

“Wow,” Sansa said, shaking her head as she stepped back from him.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, his voice low and concerned.

“Yeah,” she nodded, taking a deep breath to clear her head. “It’s just… of all the people to bump into, it has to be my husband. Or ex-husband, I guess.”

Sansa winced, realizing that she might not have been as funny as she thought. Just as she was thinking of ways to bail herself out of this conversation, his lips broke out in a grin and stopped her in her tracks. It was beautiful, making his cheeks flush and his eyes shine. She knew that she was staring but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“It’s a shame about that, isn’t it? Our divorce,” Jon clarified with a hint of humor in his voice.

“It really is,” Sansa said, letting out a laugh as she nodded in agreement. “Pity we couldn’t work out our differences.”

When someone hurried past them with a huff, they both stepped to the side of the hallway automatically, remaining close so that they could keep talking. Sansa was in no rush to leave, knowing that she’d rather be here talking to Jon than almost anywhere else.

“Well, maybe we can try for a reconciliation. You know, over coffee… someday?” he said, looking uncertain towards the end.

She beamed at him, feeling giddy all of the sudden.

“I’m free now,” Sansa said, much to his surprise.

To his credit, Jon didn’t back down and admitted that he was too.

“Miss Stark,” he said, holding his arm out to her.

She giggled at the old-fashioned gesture, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Mr. Snow,” Sansa replied, nodding at him.

They walked out of the building together, taking off across campus towards downtown. Their conversation remained lively the entire way, ranging from Professor Lannister’s teaching style to what area of law they wanted to pursue when they graduated and how they felt about the pineapple on pizza. As they sat across from each other and continued the discussion over coffee, Sansa felt immensely glad that they were chosen to be fake married.


	31. Canon AU - Future Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

To say that Sansa was happy was an understatement. She delighted in her life now, knowing that everything was as it should be. Rickon was back in Winterfell, as well as Arya. It took a long time to coax both out of their hardened shells but they were now a family along with their cousin, Sansa’s husband. At the moment, Jon ran about the yard with her younger siblings, each of them thrilled at the summer snow that fell overnight. Ghost, Nymeria, and Shaggydog were just as happy, darting around with snow dusting their fur. She stood in the doorway of the Great Hall, watching all of this from a distance. It wasn’t because she didn’t feel included in their family. They all knew that without Sansa reclaiming the North for the Starks all those years ago, Winterfell wouldn’t be theirs now. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and caught sight of Maester Samwell hovering nervously nearby. She knew what that meant.

“Rickon!”

Her voice rang across the courtyard, pulling the three from their game. She stepped out into the snow, carefully making her way over to them.

“It’s time for lessons now. You can play more later.”

Rickon pouted up at her, clearly ready to beg for more playing time and fewer studies. Sansa prepared to put on her stern face but was taken by surprise when a snowball hit her from behind. Whirling around, she saw Arya snickering nearby, snow in her wild hair and a grin on her face.

“I cannot believe you just-"”

Sansa knelt down, scooping snow into her gloved hand. Before she could toss it in her sister’s direction, another ball hit her hip. Rickon darted away with Shaggydog, grinning from ear to ear as she narrowed her eyes at him. Turning her head, she saw that Jon was holding one as well.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, giving him a warning look. “Jon, don’t you-”

She cut off with a gasp as the mound hit her squarely in the chest. Sansa looked at him with surprise, not expecting him to do such a thing. He stared back at her, waiting for his own scolding.

“Damn you, Jon Targaryen,” she said, scooping more snow up. “You will pay for that.”

His lips broke out in a grin as she charged at him. Sansa watched as he darted away, already expecting that. She shoved the snow in Arya’s face as she ran up, knowing that they were all conspiring to get her as drenched as possible. The younger Stark girl shrieked and backed away, wiping the snow from her eyes with a laugh. Rickon threw himself at Sansa but found himself tackled by Shaggydog, who began licking at his face earnestly as they wrestled in the snow. This gave Sansa her chance. As she stalked towards Jon, Ghost ran up behind him and kept him from escaping.

“Traitor,” he accused, trying to dart around him.

Sansa grabbed a handful of snow, yanking the collar of his shirt back before dumping the cold powder down his back. The noise he made was more high-pitched than she’d ever heard from him. Arya and Rickon were in stitches, watching as he danced about and tried to get the snow out of his shirt. As Sansa laughed loudly, her head tilted back and her face filled with joy, Jon turned around with narrowed eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. Sansa’s eyes widened as she staggered backward. She couldn’t move too quickly due to her laughter and heavy skirts. Moments later, he ran forward and pulled her towards him. They collapsed on the snow in a heap, their limbs entangled and Sansa half on top of Jon. It didn’t take long for Arya and Rickon to join them along with as the direwolves. Everyone around them watched with fond smiles and relief in their eyes. There was a time that no one thought that laughter would echo through Winterfell again. Sansa and her family managed to bring it back.


	32. Canon AU - Reunion in King's Landing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please don't kill me."

It had been so long since Sansa was in friendly company that the moment she felt a hand close around her arm as she made her way through King’s Landing, she felt certain that it was finally the end for her. Whoever it was dragged her into a nearby alley, leaving behind the crowd that made its way towards Baelor’s Sept. The thought of seeing that place again made her sick. Nothing good had ever happened to her there. But she wanted to see the Dragon Queen, to look upon the woman who ended the lives of all those who tormented her. Now she would never get to do that.

“Please don’t kill me,” she whispered, though she’d gone limp as the person pressed her against the stained wall.

If they wanted to, they could do anything that they wished.

“I would never do that.”

The voice was familiar, as if from a dream or a long lost memory. Sansa didn’t remember what her mother’s voice sounded like or how her father laughed but this voice sparked a rush of relief and affection. Looking up, she saw his grey eyes gazing down at her with a collision of disbelief and warmth.

“Jon,” she breathed, reaching up to trace the silver scars around his eyes.

It had been so long. He was older but still had traces of the boy she remembered. She heard stories of his valor. How he rose from the dead and battled the Others with his flaming sword. Not a bastard. A prince. Azor Ahai reborn. She thought he’d be at the sept with his aunt. The rumor was that Daenerys wanted to marry him. It was the Targaryen way, after all. At least she wasn’t his sister. Then again, Sansa wasn’t either.

“Sansa,” he breathed, tugging the hood off of her head.

Sunlight gleamed off of her auburn hair, confirming her identity.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her shaking hands tracing his features as she spoke quietly.

“I was going to the sept when I saw you,” he said, his thumb brushing over her jaw. “I almost couldn’t believe it. I thought I was seeing a ghost until I saw your eyes.”

Sansa felt tears welling in her eyes at his words. He was looking at her so kindly that it made her heart swell and her stomach flutter.

“Oh Jon,” she managed to say, pressing her hand to his cheek. “I often dreamed of meeting you again.”

He sighed, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Sansa knew that it wasn’t how siblings should embrace. But she reminded herself once more that they were not siblings and that the tug she felt in her lower belly at the feel of his coarse beard beneath her hand and the warmth of his body seeping into hers wasn’t entirely sisterly.

“Come with me,” he said, his hand finding hers.

Sansa relaxed for the first time in a long time, letting her fingers twine with his.

“Yes,” she said, knowing that she’d found her home again.

*****

Sansa brushed her hand across the soft blankets as she stood near the four-poster bed, almost unable to believe that after everything, she was back here. The Red Keep didn’t seem nearly as suffocating as it had the last time she was here but it still felt entirely wrong. She half expected to look up and see Joffrey’s cruel eyes or Cersei’s sneering face. Instead, she saw a silver-haired queen and her dark-haired nephew standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Does it meet with your expectations?” Daenerys Targaryen asked, stepping forward.

Sansa nodded, watching as the smaller woman made her way further into the room. Jon remained in the doorway, his eyes flitting between them.

“This is more than I could have asked for. Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, her voice trembling slightly as she ducked her head.

Daenerys did not let her look away, lifting her chin with her hand.

“You have no reason to be afraid,” the dragon queen said, staring into her eyes. “Our families have disagreed in the past but we mustn’t carry that with us now.”

She turned to look at Jon and Sansa followed her gaze.

“There is one person who bridges our families now. My heir and your cousin. A prince with the blood of the dragon and the wolf,” Daenerys continued, taking both of Sansa’s hands. “You’ve been apart for a long time. I know you must want to be alone. I’ll see you both in my solar tomorrow. We’ll break our fast together and talk about the future of Westeros.”

Sansa felt a thrill of fear and anticipation at the mention of the realm, one part of which belonged to her, as much as she feared to take control of it. There were those that whispered of her, called her the Queen in the North. Surely this queen would feel threatened by that.

“That sounds lovely,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face.

“Good then,” Daenerys said, squeezing her hands before walking away.

Sansa watched as she placed a kiss on Jon’s cheek before leaving the chambers. She did not move from her place by the bed, wrapping one hand around a smooth bedpost. Jon shifted in place, rubbing at his bearded jaw.

“You don’t have to stay,” she finally said after a stretched, uncomfortable silence.

He looked at her, an indescribable look on his face.

“Do you wish me to leave?” Jon asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Nor do I,” he told her.

She let some tension out of her shoulders but still watched him, waiting for him to speak again. Jon simply stared back, looking like he was searching for something to say.

“Oh this is ridiculous,” Sansa finally sighed, moving away from the bed. “We should not be afraid to speak to one another.”

Jon visibly relaxed, smiling slightly at her.

“I agree,” he said with a nod.

Reaching out, she hesitantly took one of his hands in hers

“I want to get to know you again,” Sansa said with a small smile.

She pulled him to the hearth, sitting him down in one chair before pouring them both wine and taking her place in the other.

“I don’t know where to start,” Jon admitted, staring into the fire.

“I must admit, neither do I,” Sansa said, brushing her hair out of her face.

Seeing the hesitation on his face, she leaned forward and brushed her hand against his arm.

“Why don’t you start by telling me how it feels to ride a dragon?”

Jon’s face broke out in a grin and she knew that it was the right place to start.


	33. Canon AU - Sense8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well this is awkward…"

Sansa lived in a one-bedroom apartment. After a childhood filled with laughter and love, it was almost always too quiet for her to handle. But her family was dead, hunted down by people who wanted to kill her too. So she was hiding, living in a large city where she hoped that no one would ever find her. She lived alone, so when she looked up from combing out her chemically darkened hair and saw a man standing in her bedroom, she let out a shriek and almost fell off of her bed. Before he could say a word, she scrambled to her nightstand and pulled out the gun that she'd stolen from one of the men who tried to kill her. He raised his hands as she pointed it at him, trembling violently as she pressed herself back against the wall.

“Well this is awkward,” he said, his eyes flitting over her from head to toe.

Glancing down, she remembered that she was in nothing but a tank top and underwear. With flaming cheeks, she grabbed a nearby towel and covered herself while still holding the gun with one hand.

“How did you get in here?” Sansa demanded, her voice stronger than she thought it could be.

Years of being on the run had turned her skin to steel. She could take care of herself. She had no other choice.

“I don’t even know where here is,” the man said, stepping forward.

She shook her head, shaking the gun to remind him that she could hurt him anytime.

“Don’t come any closer,” Sansa commanded.

He stopped in place, frustration on his face. His dark hair and clothes dripped water all over her carpet as if he’d been standing in the rain. Sansa frowned slightly, glancing at the window to see that the sun was shining brightly.

“Why are you wet?” she said, anger giving way to curiosity.

“It’s raining,” he said simply.

“No, it’s not.”

It was his turn to look at the window and, upon seeing the dry street outside, he looked even more confused.

“It is in London,” he said.

Sansa lowered the gun slightly, seriously wondering if he was insane.

“You’re in New York City, not London.”

“No, I’m not,” he said with a shake of his head. “Look.”

He nodded behind her at the wall and, despite wondering if there was an asylum nearby, she turned around to look. Instead of seeing chipped off-white paint, she saw a crowded square and felt cold rain falling on her skin. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle and looked around. People passed by her without looking, not even surprised by her appearance. The gun fell to the ground, completely forgotten in the midst of her surprise.

“They can’t see me?” she said, turning around to look at him.

He shook his head, striding forward.

“I don’t think you’re really here, just like I’m not really in your apartment,” he told her, his hands going to her arms.

Sansa let him rub at her goosebump covered arms, shuddering as a gust of wind went through the square.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“I don’t know."

When she reopened them, she sighed with relief when she saw that they were back in her bedroom. Looking into the man’s dark grey eyes, she didn’t feel scared anymore. She felt like he was meant to be there.

“I’m Jon,” he said, brushing her sodden hair out of her face.

Sansa exhaled sharply, reaching up to touch his chest. He felt solid like he was really there.

“Jon,” she repeated, the name forming on her lips like she’d known it all her life. “I’m Sansa.”

He smiled in a way that she knew he rarely did so.

“Nice to meet you, Sansa.”

She smiled for the first time in a long time.

“You too.”


	34. Modern AU - Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get out, get out, get out, get out!"

The sound of her door slamming against the wall with a bang woke Sansa at once. She sat up quickly, luckily having the presence of mind to bring her blankets with her to cover herself. Unfortunately for Jon, that left him scrambling to cover his lower half with something.

“Mom insists that we all go to the park,” Arya said, walking in with a roll of her eyes. “Rickon wants to feed the ducks.”

She plopped down on the end of the bed without a care in the world.

“Arya!” Sansa cried, staring at her with disbelief.

Her sister looked from her to Jon, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Good morning,” she said with a grin.

He managed a wave with one hand, the other holding one of Sansa’s frilly purple pillows over his crotch. Before Sansa could say a word, Robb poked his head into the room.

“Mom wants to know how many pancakes you two want,” he said, looking directly at Jon and Sansa.

She stared at him with wide eyes, unable to formulate a response.

“Sansa only ever wants two but she wants scrambled eggs too. Jon’ll eat a whole stack if she makes them,” Arya answered confidently.

Sansa looked over at Jon to see if he was going to say anything about this. His wide eyes and bewildered look did nothing to suggest that he would. When thundering footsteps reached their ears, Sansa knew that the embarrassment was not over.

“Hurry up!” Rickon wailed, running into the room. “I want to go to the park!”

He ran around the other side of the bed, grabbing Jon’s arm to tug on it. That was the end of the line for Sansa. This was her first night with her boyfriend and the morning after was turning into a humiliating family affair.

“Get out!” she said loudly, glaring at her siblings. “Get out, get out, get out!”

“God, cranky much?” Arya grumbled, standing up.

Robb’s grin was knowing as he stepped aside to let her walk past.

“C’mon Rickon,” he said, pulling the youngest Stark away from the bed. “Let’s leave these two alone.”

Sansa fought the urge to throw a pillow at his head but the only one nearby was the one that Jon used. Once the door closed, she fell back onto the bed with a huff.

“I have to get my own place,” she said miserably, putting her hands over her eyes.

Jon, no longer frozen in shock, gently pried her hands away and looked down into her eyes.

“It could have been worse,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“How?” Sansa questioned, her eyebrows raised.

“It could have been your father.”

She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” Sansa said in agreement before looking at him and smiling. “Good morning.”

A full-blown grin spread across his face and before she knew it, he was kissing her gently on the lips.

“Good morning,” Jon whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “How do you feel?”

“Other than humiliated by my family?” Sansa joked, a disbelieving laugh escaping from her lips.

“Other than that,” he nodded.

She combed her fingers through his hair, smiling at the reminder of everything that happened the night before.

“I’m happy,” she told him.

“Me too,” Jon said before bending down to kiss her again.

To her relief, her family gave them ten more minutes before her mother was the one knocking on the door.


	35. Modern AU - Secret Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa accidentally leave sexy underwear in the car after fooling around and Robb finds it.

Sansa knew that there would be some form of payback for calling shotgun before her brother could. She just didn’t think that it would come as soon as they settled in Jon’s car, especially not in such a humiliating way.

“I’m guessing these aren’t yours,” Robb said with a smirk, looking at Jon as he held the flimsy purple lace panties out for all to see.

Margaery let out a choking noise as Sansa and Jon both turned red for the same reason. Sansa had been wearing them under a dark blue dress the other day when Jon pulled her into the back of his car and tugged them down before burying his head between her thighs. They’d gotten lost in some nook of the car, or so they thought, and Sansa had been running late to class. So they were forgotten until now. Even worse, Margaery was with her several weeks ago when she bought the panties in question.

“Who knew you had it in you?” Robb said, laughing as he swung the panties from one finger.

Jon took them away with a frown, refusing to meet Sansa’s eyes. They both knew that if Robb was aware of who they belonged to, he’d be less amused and more inclined to test his right hook. Margaery, however, was staring straight at Sansa, clearly filing this away for further discussion.

“Can we get going now?” Sansa said, facing forward with her arms crossed over her chest to hide her terrible poker face and pounding heart.

Robb let out a another laugh but let it go. Before they pulled away from the curb, though, Sansa could have sworn that she saw Jon tuck the panties away into the pocket of his jeans. Since they were on a road trip with a couple of three years, Sansa and Jon were forced to share a motel room. She could remember Robb pleading and bribing his way into convincing them. By that time, they’d already been sneaking around for six months, so it didn’t take much convincing. However, the atmosphere of the room was tense after the hours spent in the car knowing how close they came to being discovered by the one person who would take their secret relationship the hardest, other than maybe Arya. Sansa was mostly hiding from Margaery, who might come calling any minute to discuss exactly what was going on. She could only pray that Robb was keeping her busy in their room. Jon paced the room as she sat on one of the beds, her back ramrod straight and her hands folded in her lap. She knew that it was best to stay silent and let him think things through. It was how he coped. But there was a point at which she couldn’t do it anymore.

“Margaery knows.”

Jon looked at her, a strange glint in his eyes.

“She’s good at keeping secrets, always has been. But she doesn’t like to keep them from Robb. I don’t know how long I can stall her so he’ll probably figure it out soon. Then my family will know and who knows how that’ll go? My dad’ll probably have an aneurysm. Arya will think I’m trying to steal you away from her. My mom might-”

Sansa was cut off by his fingers on her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jon said, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“But-”

He shook his head, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“If they find out, they find out. Doesn’t change anything between us.”

Sansa relaxed at his words, smiling at him.

“I don’t deserve you,” she sighed, pressing her forehead to his.

Jon let out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I think it’s quite the opposite, sweet girl,” he said in a low voice

Sansa laughed as well, knowing that they weren’t going to agree. Then she remembered what led them to this and let out a miserable groan.

“I can’t believe my brother was holding my panties,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

Jon laughed louder and she felt him moving. Sure enough, she saw him pull the lace fabric out of his pocket as she leaned away.

“They’re probably my favorite thing you’ve ever worn,” he said honestly, a hint of lust forming in his eyes as he looked her up and down.

“Well then, you’d be pretty happy if you saw what I was wearing right now,” Sansa said alluringly, reaching up to curl her fingers in his hair.

Jon’s face broke out in a grin just before he swooped down to kiss her, lying her down on the mattress before embarking on a mission to find out exactly what she was wearing.


	36. Modern AU - The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Sansa pulled herself out from beneath the car, ready to unleash hell on whoever took her grease towel away. It was only when she caught sight of the achingly familiar eyes and auburn curls that she snapped her mouth shut and ripped it out of his hands.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m here to get you over the wall,” Robb replied.

As far as reasons go, it wasn’t a terrible one. But she still wasn’t convinced.

“Finally remembered I was here?”

“I thought you were dead until a few days ago," her brother said in his own defense.

Sansa stood up with a scoff, wiping her hands on the towel.

“Unfortunately I’m very much alive. I’ve been trapped here for the last six years while you’ve been buying expensive suits and stealing even more expensive art.”

Robb’s eyebrows flew up out of surprise.

“You heard about that?”

Sansa crossed her arms over her chest, giving him an unimpressed glare.

“Everyone heard about that,” she told him.

Robb sighed, setting his case down on a nearby desk before sitting down in the chair in front of it.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said, tightening the scarf that was tied around her messy hair.

“I’m not here to argue about the past,” he said, opening the case.

Sansa watched as he shifted through the clothes, a frown forming on his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

He looked up at her, his face closing off. It was like before when he tried to comfort her and their siblings by lying about the war and how far it could reach.

“I found Father,” he said, rendering her speechless. “Or, rather, the United States government found him.”

Sansa stared at him, remembering late-night stories and the laughter that frequented her childhood home.

“Where?” she finally said, her voice shaking much more than she wanted it to be.

Robb stood up, his fingers playing with something small and metallic.

“I’ll tell you everything that you need to know later,” he promised her, walking to the window. “But we don’t have time right now.”

She gave him a questioning look as he nodded through the blinds before stepping away. Sansa made her way to where he stood and peered out to see a man standing on the opposite corner from the chop shop. He wore all black and a hat that shadowed his face. Even from that distance, she could see his defined features and solemn mouth. Two things were immediately noticeable about this man. He was incredibly handsome and most definitely a spy.

“What do we do?” she asked, letting go of her anger as she looked at her brother.

“We’ll need to take your car,” Robb said, dropping the bugging device in her cup of water before picking up his case.

Sansa didn’t hesitate, reaching out to grab her keys.

“I’m ready.”

*****

Sansa tapped her foot against the carpeted floor, waiting for Robb to finish scouring the store. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable in the expensive clothing that she wore. She loved the feeling of jewelry on her wrists and silk lining on her skin. It had been years since she’d been able to dress so richly and part of her preened beneath the appreciative gazes of the saleswomen. She had just been on edge ever since Robb showed back up in her life, and with good reason. It wasn’t until she felt a presence over her shoulder that she turned around slowly. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the dark-haired man that had chased them halfway across Berlin.

“What’s he doing here?” Sansa demanded, turning around.

Robb gave her an apologetic look, stepping closer.

“He’s working with us to get to the Lannisters and Father,” he said.

Her eyebrows shot up at his words.

“You have her dressed all wrong,” the other man said, a northern accent thick in his voice.

“Pardon?” Sansa said, looking back at him.

“My woman would never dress this way.”

She put her hands on her hips, ready to unleash hell on one of the two men in her presence. Sansa had yet to decide which one deserved it more.

“Your woman?”

“It’s part of our cover,” Robb spoke up, shooting the other spy an angry look.

She looked from one man to the other, waiting for them to explain.

“I’m Jon Snow,” the stranger finally said, holding up a sparkling engagement ring. “And you’re my fiancé now.”


	37. Modern AU - Morning After 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, yeah, I know how this goes. I'll grab my clothes and get out of here."

When Sansa woke, his arms were wrapped around her waist and her cheek was pressed to his chest. It was pointless to try untangling her limbs from his without waking him, which was the last thing that she wanted to do. Unfortunately, Jon was the lightest sleeper in the world and shifted as soon as he heard her let out a soft sigh. Sansa cursed inwardly when he stiffened and began pulling his arms away.

“Jon-” she began, lifting her head up to look at him.

“Yeah, I know how this goes,” he said, sitting up. “I’ll grab my clothes and go.”

It had been going on for a while, this thing between them. They fell into bed together when they couldn’t face the thought of being alone. Things had been shifting lately, though. It wasn’t all sex and no feelings anymore. Perhaps it was that thought that caused her to reach out and wrap her hand around his wrist, pulling him back towards her.

“Maybe we could change the routine,” she suggested.

Jon’s surprise was clear, showing on his face and in his body language.

“Sansa, are you-”

“I’m sure,” she cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask. “What do you think?”

She suddenly felt unsure, wondering if he would reject her and never come back again. It was her fault for letting feelings develop. They both knew the arrangement from the beginning. Before she could torment herself too much, Sansa watched as a small smile formed on Jon’s lips.

“I think we should have done this a lot sooner,” he told her, slipping back into the bed.

She laughed as he pulled her down to lie with him once more, a giddy feeling overwhelming her. Jon’s arms returned to her waist and his lips pressed to hers, soft and insistent all at once. She smiled against his mouth, glad that she didn’t let him go this time.


	38. Canon AU - Sansa is Brandon's bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is Snow and Jon is Stark.

When he woke to the sound of light tapping on his door, Jon’s first thought was of rats, though they were rare within the walls of Winterfell. Then he heard a low hiss of his name and staggered from his bed with a groan, knowing exactly who he’d see on the other side as he yanked on a pair of breeches. Sure enough, the faces of his younger siblings that greeted him once he unlatched the door and pulled it open.

“Seven hells,” he said, rubbing at his eyes as if Arya and Bran would fade away if he did it long enough. “What are you two doing up at this hour?”

“It’s Sansa’s birthday.”

Jon dropped his hand at Bran’s unsatisfying explanation, wondering why in the name of the gods that would bring them to his door. Then he saw a plate of lemoncakes in his younger brother’s hands and suddenly understood.

“You’re surprising her?” he asked, his annoyance fading.

They’d always tried to do something special for their cousin on her nameday, knowing that she would not have the same feasts and celebrations as them.

“We’re bloody well trying,” Arya huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But we can’t find her.”

That certainly got Jon’s attention. He glanced between them, wondering if this was some jest. Their eyes reflected only solemn concern.

“Get Robb,” Jon said as he retreated into his chambers to dress in a hurry, pulling on yesterday’s tunic and shoving his feet into boots as quickly as he could.

Arya darted away to wake their brother. None of them wanted to alert their father or mother. Not if it would get their cousin in any sort of trouble. Jon stepped out into the corridor and grabbed a torch from the wall as he heard Robb’s equally exhausted voice questioning what Arya wanted. Moments later, he heard scrambling just before Robb staggered out as well, clasping a cloak about his shoulders and following close on Jon’s heels as they made their way through the Great Keep.

“Where would she be?” Robb wondered as they hurried out to the courtyard.

They all looked to Jon and he let out a sigh, closing his eyes just briefly. In truth, there were a number of places where Sansa might be. She made a habit of hiding when they were younger, especially when visiting lords were around. She hated being a spectacle to them. Sansa Snow. The bastard of House Stark. The shame of House Dayne. But she hadn’t hidden away in years. For all the beauty she inherited from her mother, it was her father’s temper that burned within her, or so Jon heard. He could see it in her eyes when she grew angry, those violet depths expressing every thought that flew through her mind. No, he hadn’t seen her hide in years. She simply turned that beautiful gaze on any man that whispered slander and silently dared him to repeat such words aloud.

They rarely ever did.

Jon thought of the broken tower, where she used to read in isolation. Or the stables, where she would brush every horse and weave their manes into braids no matter the loyal men of House Stark that laughingly cursed her for it. Perhaps she was on the battlements, where the wind whipped at her dark hair and her slight form stood trembling in the cold, yet too stubborn to retreat from it. She may even be in the godswood, the only place she ever prayed. With a few words, he sent his siblings running in different directions, Robb heading for the godswood, Arya for the battlements, and Bran for the stables. Yet as he stepped towards the broken tower, something stilled him in place. The thought that she would hide where no one expected. The one place she never visited. Where no one would think to look for her. Jon stood in conflict, wondering if he might truly find her down there.

His feet carried him towards the crypts before he could truly make up his mind. The torch in his hand sent flickering light bouncing off of the walls as he made his way down the steps and through the winding maze that held centuries of dead Starks. It wasn’t until he saw another light ahead that he knew he was right. She wouldn’t expect to be found down here but he had the oddest sense that there was another reason for her presence. As he neared, he saw her shadowed form sitting on the ground, her head tilted up towards the statue that stood over the resting place of Brandon Stark, his uncle and her father. She didn’t even look as he neared, moving only to bring what he recognized as a skin of wine to her lips. It wasn’t like Sansa to drink. His father hardly ever allowed it and even then, she always wrinkled her nose at the taste.

“How did you find me?”

Her voice was hoarse as if she’d been crying. He had the feeling that was exactly the case.

“I just knew where to look,” Jon said, setting his own torch in the wall a few feet away from the one she brought before lowering himself to sit next to her.

She didn’t look his way, simply passing the skin of wine over before pulling her knees up to her chest beneath the simple grey woolen gown that she wore. Her hair was braided over her shoulder, wisps of it falling out to frame her face. Jon stared at her for a long few moments, the thought striking him that she looked beautiful even in the midst of her melancholy.

“Bran and Arya came to find you,” he said before taking a healthy drink of the Arbor Gold. “They wanted to surprise you.”

A faint smile pulled at her lips before disappearing just as quickly.

“I know,” Sansa said, glancing at him only to look away again. “I heard them whispering about it a few days ago.”

“They have lemoncakes.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes falling closed as she leaned her head back against the wall.

“I don’t want to celebrate,” Sansa admitted, a slight hitch in her voice. “I didn’t have the heart to tell them.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer, shaking her head slightly before opening her eyes again.

“I’ve never seen it until now,” she said, gazing up at the statue again. “I just wanted to before…”

Jon’s heart dropped at her words, hearing something that gave him a strange sense of foreboding.

“Before what?” he asked.

Sansa looked at him, her eyes dark as his own in the dim light.

“He doesn’t look how I imagined,” she admitted, her hand lifting just before she brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek. “I thought he might favor you or Uncle Ned.”

Jon stared at her, unable to let go of his suspicions.

“Before what?” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

He feared her answer, though he knew that he needed to hear it. Sansa pulled her hand away quickly as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Before he knew it, she pushed to her feet and paced away from him, keeping her back turned. Jon stood as well, watching as her arms wrapped around her middle as if to hold herself together.

“I’m leaving, Jon.”

His stomach twisted at her words, a chill curling down his spine as he took a step forward.

“No.”

Sansa inhaled at the sound of his denial, tilting her head back towards the stone ceiling above them.

“You know that I must,” she said, her voice trembling. “Everyone does. I’m eight and ten now. There’s no place for me here.”

“That’s not true,” Jon said.

She whirled around, taking him by surprise at her sudden movement.

“Yes, it is!”

Her shout echoed through the crypts. Jon swallowed hard at the grief etched upon her face.

“I have no future here,” Sansa said, advancing towards him. “I’m an orphaned bastard. Your father did his duty and protected me when I was a child but I have no right to burden him for the rest of his days. Uncle Ned should not have to live with _his_ mistake.”

Her hand flung out, pointing at her father’s statue. Jon did not flinch even as she glared up at him, standing his ground.

“No one wants you to leave,” he said in a low voice.

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“As if anyone would say if they did,” Sansa said, turning away from him once more.

Jon lurched forward, wrapping his hand around her arm to still her in place.

“ _I_ do not want you to leave.”

Sansa stared at him with round eyes, her lips slightly parted in surprise. Then she blinked and wrenched away from him, staggering back a step. When he reached out to steady her, she evaded his touch and scowled at him.

“So what?” Sansa demanded, lifting her chin defiantly. “I remain here? A blight on the honor of the Starks? Keeping to the shadows? Watching as you marry a beautiful highborn woman when I-I…”

Jon’s throat went dry, his heart picking up pace in his chest at her words. As much as he wanted to hear the rest of her words, he did not have to ask her to say it. He knew her heart as well as he knew his own. They let it go unspoken, knowing that was how it should be. Months of shared looks and hidden longing shoved out into the open in that moment. Jon took a step towards her, then another and another until he was mere inches away. His hands lifted, cupping her tear-stained cheeks gently. Her body shuddered at his touch, her eyes fixing on his as he gazed down at her. When he leaned in to press a long kiss to her forehead, he heard her soft sigh and felt the fight drain away from her form.

“I’ll go with you,” he whispered.

Sansa jerked as if she could not quite believe what she heard. Then she pulled away to look up at him without pushing his hands away.

“No,” she said, her voice hushed. “You cannot. You have a duty here.”

Jon brushed the loose tendrils of hair away from her face, refusing to let her push him away.

“They have Robb,” he said simply, finding it all too easy to make this decision.

It was almost as if he’d been making it every day for the last year, without even knowing. When it came down to it, there was no question.

“Jon…”

“They would have had to make the choice between us anyway. Only one can be the Lord of Winterfell when the time comes,” he said, stroking his thumb lightly over her cheek. “This makes it easy.”

“I cannot let you,” Sansa said, another tear slipping down her cheek only to catch on his fingers.

“No more than I can let you?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, huffing as she shook her head.

“Not fair,” she said faintly.

Jon tilted her chin up, waiting until she looked at him to speak again.

“If you go, I go,” he vowed, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “If you stay, I stay. And if you would mine, I would be yours, for the rest of our days.”

Sansa didn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, staring at him as if she could wear him down with the force of her eyes.

“You’re a fool,” she finally said when it did not work.

A smile broke out on his face and he made no attempt to deny it. Instead, he ducked his head and brushed his lips over hers, sealing his vow with a kiss.


	39. Canon AU - Season Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonsa prompt: post or pre parental reveal; they have secret meetings in the broken tower

He found her in one of the least degraded rooms, her back turned to him as she gazed out at the courtyard through a glassless window. Moonlight paled her skin even more than usual and darkened her hair, giving her an otherwordly, almost ethereal look as she stared resolutely forward, giving no hint that she heard him enter the room and latch the door behind him.

Sansa allowed few words to pass her lips since his return to from the south. Most of them were layered with courtesy, welcoming Daenerys and her guests to Winterfell as of they visited the highest seat of the North simply out of a leisurely desire. For Jon, she countered most questions he had with curt responses and outright ignored the ones that she did not wish to answer.

Yet here they were, meeting in the dead of night with no one around to hear their words if they were quiet enough.

Jon braced himself for her condemnation, knowing that he more than earned it. Proclaimed King in the North and trusted to carry the weight of that with him no matter where he went, only to return with an entirely different title as he took on the nearly impossible duty of convincing northern lords that a Targaryen on the Iron Throne was far from the worst thing that could happen.

Sansa’s words would lend his cause a weight that he no longer had the ability to add himself. Distrust met him at every turn and Sansa remained a silent presence throughout every meeting. She would not answer to his soliciting looks, nor to the rage of the lords that surrounded them. Her face was carefully schooled, her eyes alert and watchful. Her ears open and listening.

Jon wished that he had a window into her mind, to see her thoughts laid out before him. He knew beyond a doubt that there was a storm beneath her careful veneer, building in intensity with each passing moment. He expected for it to be unleashed on him in full, now that they were alone for the first time. Yet she stood facing away from him, her shoulders tense yet her breaths even.

“There is something that you must know,” she finally said.

There was an underlying wariness to her voice, as if she was loathe to speak at all. Only one thing could bring such a hesitation to her words. One truth, hidden for so long.

“Sam told me.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath but she did not look at him. When she bowed her head and braced her hands upon the window’s ledge, her eyes slowly closed. Yet he could still see the odd mix of relief and uncertainty flit across her face.

“I didn’t know how I might tell you,” Sansa admitted quietly.

Jon glanced away, swallowing hard and adjusting his cloak on his shoulders simply for something to do.

“There is no good way to say it, I suppose.”

When he looked back at her, he was surprised to see that her eyes were now fixed upon him.

“Father lied to protect you,” Sansa said carefully.

“Aye,” Jon said with a nod, though he felt a hot spike of anger rise within him.

He understood his now-uncle’s side. He knew why he did what he did. Robert Baratheon would have called for his death otherwise. He did not flinch when Tywin Lannister presented him with the corpses of Elia Martell and her children, Jon’s true siblings.

“He was far better at lying than any of us thought,” he said.

“Aren’t we all?” Sansa asked, straightening up again.

Her eyes were darker in the light of a single torch, yet he could see every emotion pass through them clear as day.

“Sansa-”

“Before you left, you vowed that you would always fight for the North. No matter what,” she said, turning to face him fully. “Now you are here again and suddenly you intend to fight for _her_.”

“We need her. We need her armies and we need her dragons,” Jon said, straightening his shoulders.

“You had no choice but to bend the knee?”

He didn’t answer, a sigh passing his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Does it matter who rules the North right now if the Night King takes it all? Because that is what will happen without her.”

Sansa’s jaw clenched as she shook her head.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that,” he said determinedly, taking a step towards her. “I would bend the knee a thousand times over if it means our people live.”

“You do not know what I had to do to keep you in their favor,” Sansa hissed, matching his step with one of her own. “They wanted to abandon you, the longer you stayed in the south, and I assured them that you had the good of our people in the forefront of your mind, always. You have not only made yourself look like a fool. Now every northern man and woman questions the honor of the Starks.”

Jon gritted his own teeth, hating that he could see truth in her words.

“That can be remedied,” he said in a low voice. “If we tell them the truth. They hate the Targaryen name as it is. It will be easy for them to disavow me when they know what I am.”

Sansa’s eyes widened ever so slightly at his words and the fury that darkened his tone.

“We can’t,” she said, her own anger slowly fading. "Not yet. Not until I find the right words. It will be hard enough to convince the northern armies to fight at your back with Daenerys Targaryen flying overhead. The lords already question your reasons for bending the knee to her. They may spurn you entirely if they find out that you are…”

Sansa trailed off, her mouth falling closed and her eyes darting away from him.

“They will be angry,” Jon said, though he could see the sense in her words.

“They’re already angry,” she said, her eyes flashing as she looked back at him. “But they are still prepared to fight. We can do nothing to change that right now. Everything is tenuous. We cannot tip the scales.”

Through his tangled thoughts and twisted emotions, he could see the sense in her words. He allowed a reluctant nod of his head and watched her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh of relief. Then she started forward, towards the door, as if she had nothing left to say in the wake of his agreement. But Jon could not let her go. Not yet.

His arm shot out and he grasped her wrist gently, keeping her from passing him. Her eyes shot up to meet his, her lips parting in surprise as he tugged her in close. Close enough to feel her breath on his face. Mere inches of space between them, tension rising even more as he stared back at her resolutely, determined to speak his mind.

“I bent the knee because we need her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it has not changed the truth of what _I_ need.”

Jon did not know if he imagined how she shivered, her arm twitching in own as if she could feel the heat of his touch beneath the layers she wore. Yet she did not break her gaze away from him.

“What do you need?” she asked, the blue in her eyes more apparent to him now that she stood so close.

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes darting over her face and lingering on her lips for just a short moment before meeting her eyes again.

“You.”

Sansa’s blinked slowly, surprise written across her face at the single word. So simple and honest, echoed in every beat of his heart and in every breath that he took. Then she moved, slowly and deliberately, pressing her cold hand over his cheek. Jon tilted her face into her touch, his eyes falling closed only to spring open when he felt the press of her forehead to his.

“I am here,” Sansa murmured softly. “That has not changed either.”

A sigh passed his lips, his tension draining away as he relaxed into her touch. It was impossible to know how long they stood there. Hours may well have passed but he could not bring himself to care. When she pulled away, he felt the loss of her touch. But her eyes were softer as she nodded at him before turning to the door. Jon watched her go, listening to the sound of her descending footsteps long after the door shut behind her.

Only then did he let himself breathe.


	40. Canon AU - Gilly attends Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the black wedding Myranda helps Sansa take a bath. I’m hoping for a parallel before the white wedding, this time with Gilly calming her nerves instead.

The warm water was murky, mixed with perfumed oils and salts that filled her chambers with a heavy fragrance. Sansa nearly felt smothered by it but she couldn’t bring herself move, even to open a window and air out the room. All she wanted to do was stay there, submerged in water, hidden from the world. A cowardly thought, though she could not ride herself of it.

“Your Grace.”

A gasp slipped from her lips, her head snapping to the doorway of her bedchamber as she remembered a much different bath before a much different wedding. Myranda had been soft-spoken and her awful intent was hidden behind mild words and sweet smiles. Sansa knew enough of people to see past it all, to the violence in her eyes. So like Ramsay’s.

But Gilly was nothing like Myranda. She could be soft-spoken and yet equally bold. The fighting light in her eyes was born from a lifetime of struggle and the firm desire to protect her son. She may not have Sansa’s trust quite yet, for so few truly did, but Gilly most certainly had her respect.

“Would you open a window?” Sansa asked, sinking even lower into the water.

Gilly nodded, looking glad for something to do as she crossed the room. Sansa tilted her head back to rest against the edge of the tub, skimming her fingers over the surface of the water.

“How is your boy?” she asked once cool air began filling the room, simply for the sake of filling the silence.

“He’s good,” Gilly said, a smile breaking out over her face. “He’s speaking more every day. Sam says he’ll be like him… a-a scholar. But…”

Gilly trailed off with a shrug.

“He may yet be a fighter,” Sansa said, allowing herself a small smile. “I see how he watches the training yard when you carry him around. Arya and Jon-”

Her words cut off, her heart stuttering oddly as she breathed in a sharp inhale. Gilly must have seen the trepidation written across her face because she moved quickly, kneeling next to the tub. Sansa watched her warily, memories pushing in at the edge of her mind without her consent.

“He’ll be good to you,” Gilly said, gesturing for Sansas to lean forward so that she could work soap and oils into her hair. “Lord Snow.”

Sansa opened her mouth to correct her. The Iron Throne may have been melted down and the Seven Kingdoms separated as such but Jon was still a royal prince. It was only proper to address him as such. Yet she did not say it, for she saw how Jon flinched every time he heard it.

“I know he will be,” she said instead, hugging her knees to her chest.

Gilly didn’t say anything, though her silence spoke volumes. If anyone knew what it was like to distrust the world, unsure of whether it would tear her down to where she started, it was this woman. Different from other freefolk but with the same hardened core. Sansa knew parts of her story, different pieces that helped her form an incomplete yet deeply impactful picture.

“What was Jon like? At the Wall?” she asked.

There was no answer for a few seconds and she had the sense that she’d taken Gilly by surprise. No one really spoke of Jon’s time in the Night’s Watch, much less Jon himself. The only person who ever came closest was Tormund and he only spoke of it when he loudly told his jesting stories that caused Jon’s cheeks to flush.

“He was different than the others,” Gilly finally said, pouring a jug of water over her head to rinse it out. “Sam told me that he… he helped him. That others were cruel but Jon took his side. Made sure he was protected.”

Sansa closed her eyes, thinking of Jon when he was younger. She hardly knew him, apart from a few things. He was better with a sword than Robb, but not better on horseback. He liked a few stories, always repeating them to Bran when he asked. He laughed rarely but deeply when he did. And he kind, at heart. Deserving of far better than the life he was given.

And he would soon be her husband.

“He won’t mark you,” Gilly said bluntly, yet her voice quiet as she twisted the water from her hair, staring at the long-healed scars on her back. “He wouldn’t even touch you if you didn’t want it.”

Sansa sank her teeth into her lower lip, fighting against the emotions that welled up within her. So few people had seen the marks left behind. Gifts from Joffrey and Ramsay.

“He doesn’t know about them,” she gasped out, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “He’s never seen.”

Gilly didn’t say anything for several long moments. Sansa nearly jumped when she felt her hand brush her shoulder.

“You’re strong,” she said, nothing but forthright truth in her voice. “Your scars show it. He’ll see it too.”

Sansa glanced over her shoulder, meeting Gilly’s eyes. She had been initially hesitant to accept her as a handmaiden but now she was grateful for trusting Jon when he made the suggestion. She almost reminded her of Shae, though they were far different from one another.

“Thank you,” she said with genuine gratitude written across her face.

Gilly smiled once more, giving her a nod as she dried her hand on a cloth.

“You’re a good queen,” she said, a spark of amusement flitting through her eyes. “For a kneeler.”

Sansa couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, accepting a sheet as she stood and stepped out of the water. It didn’t take long for her to dress, donning a dove grey gown and a white cloak. Her hair was carefully brushed by Gilly’s steady hand, falling around her shoulders in copper waves and pinned up only at her temples. As she stood before a tall looking glass, she realized that it wasn’t fear that took root in her chest, but anticipation. That was when she knew.

“I think that I am ready,” she said quietly, glancing at Gilly.

The other woman reached out, clasping her hand.

“You are.”


	41. Modern AU - Jon comes to Sansa's aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon rescues Sansa from Ramsey but modern au please

“Who the fuck is calling you at this hour?”

Jon huffed, shaking his head at Tormund’s half-drunk antics as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. Not that he was wrong. It was rare that anyone called him at two in the morning, much less just a few hours after he got off shift. It certainly wasn’t the station and it wasn’t anyone in his contact list. Jon stared at the screen for a few moments, trying to decide whether to ignore it or not.

Something pushed him to answer. A feeling deep in his chest. Stepping away from the group as Gendry ducked a hair ruffle from Tormund and Grenn nearly ran headlong into a pole as Pyp let out a bark of laughter, Jon accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear, a part of him hoping that it was a wrong number. All he wanted that night was a trip to his bed.

“Snow,” he said in greeting.

For a few seconds, he heard nothing but silence and had himself nearly convinced it was a telemarketer. Then he heard a sharp exhale that almost sounded like a sob. Then…

“Jon?”

He only had one beer but Jon was almost certain that the sound of the familiar voice would have sobered him up even if he was three sheets to the wind. There was no mistaking who it was, though he hadn’t spoken to her in at least three years.

“Sansa?”

She let out a shuddering breath as his blood ran cold, knowing that she couldn’t be calling for any good reason.

“I-I need help,” she said, her voice wavering as she spoke. “Please I… I need…”

“Where are you?” Jon asked, the urgency in his voice carrying to his friends, who all stopped everything to listen and watch him.

He could feel their stares on his back but he didn’t return them, too focused on her to look back. Sansa relayed two cross streets to him, causing his heart to sink in his chest. He didn’t know that she was back in the north at all, much less in the city where they were both raised. Last he heard, she was heading south.

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Just stay where you are.”

Jon had no idea what was going on but it was fairly clear that she was in trouble. He couldn’t turn his back on that. Not ever.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Stay where you are,” Jon told her again.

He waited for her to tearfully assure him that she would before hanging up, darting towards the street to wave down a cab.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, the first of his friends to edge closer.

“It’s-” Jon shook his head, inhaling the cool night air deeply. “I have to go help someone.”

“Okay,” Sam said, his eyes darting over Jon’s face. “Do you want someone to come with you?”

He considered it for a brief moment, wondering if he should. But Jon shook his head eventually. This wasn’t something that he could do with someone else. It wasn’t fair to Sansa to bring people along that she didn’t know. He had no idea what he was walking into with her but he wouldn’t do anything to spook her when she already sounded terrified.

“I’ll call you if I need you,” he assured Sam.

His closest friend nodded, though he didn’t look completely satisfied.

“Gilly’s working the night shift,” he told Jon, nodding at him.

Jon gave Sam a brief smile, grateful for the information. As an empty cab pulled to the curb, he gave Sam a pat on the shoulder and waved to the others before climbing into the back as quickly as he could. Jon gave the driver the cross streets that Sansa told him, sitting back against the seat with a bouncing leg as they pulled away from the curb.

It was easy to cross the city at this time of night. it helped that Jon was half in a daze, only pulling out of his tangled thoughts when the cab slowed to a stop and the driver gave a very pointed clear of his throat, staring at Jon through the rearview mirror. He muttered an apology, tossing a few twenties his way before clambering out, his ears buzzing and his body almost numb as his feet found the pavement.

Jon turned in circles, peering around desperately. When he finally spotted a flash of auburn hair beneath a street lamp, his relief nearly crushed him. She wasn’t alone, leaning against the outside wall of a drug store with a tall woman next to her, a hand on her shoulder. Jon didn’t hesitate to bolt across the street, not even caring enough to look for cars. All he could think of was the critical need to get to her.

“Sansa?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes growing wide as she pushed away from the wall and stumbled towards him. Before she could get far, the woman stepped between them, a wary look on her face. Her protective stance spoke volumes and Jon didn’t think before fumbling in his pockets, pulling out his badge to flash it in her direction.

“I’m a detective,” he said, watching the woman’s tension ease. 

As she stepped aside, Sansa didn’t even say anything, throwing herself into his arms with a choked sob once he pocketed his badge. He caught her easily, his hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face into his shoulder. He could feel her body trembling beneath the coat she wore, her hands gripping relentlessly at his own jacket.

“You came,” she managed between heaving breaths, her voice shaking as well.

“Course I did,” he said, impulsively pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

Sansa muffled a whimper into his neck, her tears wetting his skin as she folded herself even tighter into his embrace. As he glanced up, he saw the woman watching them with indecision on her face, as if she couldn’t quite decide what to think of their display. There was something else there, a grave sadness that he couldn’t quite understand. Somehow, Jon knew that he had to look at Sansa. He had to see to know.

Pulling away, he gently lifted her head and the rage that coursed through him nearly knocked him to his knees. Her eye was bruised and her lip split. Not only that, but he realized that she wasn’t just shaking from her tears. Beneath the coat she wore, far too large to be her own, all that she had on was a faded t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts.

It was clear that she’d left somewhere in a hurry. There were more bruises on her thighs, painting a clear picture that he would rather not imagine. Sansa looked away from him, lowering her head and withdrawing into herself. Jon didn’t allow it, pulling her back into his arms without a second thought. He couldn’t let her go. Not after what he’d seen.

“God Sansa,” he sighed out, holding her more gently now that he knew she was hurt. “We have to get you out of this cold.” 

“I tried,” the woman said, stepping forward. “She insisted on waiting out here for you.”

Jon looked at her again, wondering if she was some sort of Good Samaritan.

“Brienne gave me her phone,” Sansa said, her voice small and muffled as she refused to move her face where it was pressed to his shoulder. “Robb-Robb made me and Arya memorize your number so long ago, in case we got in trouble and he couldn’t get to us. I-I just hoped… I hoped that you hadn’t changed it.”

He let out a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he silently thanked his best friend, knowing that he looked after Sansa even now, though he was long dead.

“Thank you,” he said to this woman, Brienne.

She nodded at him before opening her mouth to speak.

“She needs a hospital. I can give you a ride, if you need it.”

Sansa flinched in his arms but didn’t protest.

“I’ll take care of you,” Jon murmured, stroking his hand through her tangled hair. “I promise.”

She relaxed only slightly, nodding her head as best she could.

“Just don’t leave,” Sansa breathed out pleadingly.

“Never.”

* * *

He sat in the back of a car that smelled faintly of a pine air freshener and leather, Sansa tucked firmly into his side without any care for seatbelt laws. Brienne drove them quickly yet carefully, not wanting to cause an accident with any haste. Sansa must have been exhausted because it took mere minutes for her eyes to slip closed and her breaths to even out. They weren’t far from the hospital but Jon refused to begrudge her any peace.

“I was shopping around when she walked in,” Brienne said quietly, glancing over her shoulder at them. “That’s my coat she’s wearing. She didn’t look as if she was even aware of the cold. It’s a miracle she even had shoes on. All she wanted was… well… she was practically hysterical. Others tried to calm her but every time a man got close, she panicked even more. I eventually got her away from the others and gave her my coat. When I asked if there was anyone she could call, all she said was your name. I assume you’re Jon Snow.”

He nodded slowly, feeling his anger ebb and flow as he thought of the many things he’d like to do to whoever hurt her like this.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Brienne didn’t respond, looking almost uncomfortable with his gratitude as she shifted in her seat.

“There were two closer hospitals to where we were,” she said, her eyes narrowing almost critically. “Why this one?”

“A friend of mine works as a nurse there. I trust her,” he answered.

Brienne took a moment before nodding her understanding. They pulled up to the emergency bay not long after.

“If you need anything,” Brienne said, scrawling her phone number out on an old receipt and handing it back. “If _she_ does.”

Jon took it with a nod, tucking it away into the pocket of his coat before gently shaking Sansa awake, hating the whimpering protest she made as she jerked away from him.

“It’s okay,” he assured her as her exhausted eyes darted around fearfully. “We’re here.”

Sansa glanced out of the window at the red glowing sign of the emergency room, swallowing hard and nodding. Her eyes cut to Brienne as her slim, pale hands lifted to pull the jacket from her shoulders.

“It’s yours,” she said when Brienne tried to protest. “You’ve done enough for me.”

Jon watched as she laid the coat out gently over the seat, fury rising once more when he saw more bruises and even a few scars on her arms. Sansa didn’t notice, giving Brienne an empty smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Brienne said, looking just as uncomfortable yet less willing to ignore the gratitude.

Jon climbed out first, helping Sansa and hating how she shivered at the brisk wind that picked up around them. It didn’t take much to rush her inside and he watched as her cheeks reddened at her exposed state, though there were few people in the waiting room.

“Is Gilly here?” he asked the receptionist before she could even greet him.

Her face twisted disdainfully at his curt words before she glanced past him and saw Sansa, bruised and shaking. Then her eyes widened.

“Miss?” she said, standing up as her eyes took in Sansa’s appearance, wounds and all.

Then the receptionist looked at Jon, worry and condemnation written across her face. Sansa saw it too, grasping Jon’s arm and half-hiding behind him.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly, though her words were firm. “He didn’t do this.”

The woman looked doubtful but Jon didn’t have time for her, pulling out his badge for the second time that night.

“Gilly,” he said insistently, showing her his detective’s shield.

The woman’s lips thinned out but she picked up the phone out of its cradle, quickly dialing an extension. Jon blocked her out, turning to face Sansa as he stripped his own jacket from his shoulders.

“Jon,” Sansa sighed, shaking her head as if to refuse him.

He wouldn’t hear of it, placing it around her shoulders as he led her to sit. She moved gingerly, each wince and grit of her teeth filed away in the back of his mind. Jon hadn’t asked her any of the thousand questions he had. Not even the most important one. The one that would hold someone accountable. He intended to, but he knew it wasn’t the time.

“I didn’t know you were a detective now,” Sansa said, pulling his jacket tight around her as she curled her legs beneath her.

“I got my shield about a year ago,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re good at it, I bet,” she said, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You were always like Dad. Everything had to be _right_ for you. Always fair and good.”

Jon’s cheeks warmed at her words. He couldn’t imagine a better compliment than comparing him to Ned Stark. A man that he admired more than words could describe. A man that he missed every day.

“You look like your mother,” Jon said, though it wasn’t altogether true.

Sansa’s hair was lighter than Catelyn’s and her skin fairer. There was something in the design of her face and the weight in her bright blue eyes that reminded him of Ned too. Though she opened her mouth to speak, Sansa was saved from responding when the door to the rest of the hospital pushed open and a familiar face in light green scrubs pushed through.

“Jon?” Gilly said, her eyes wide with fear. “Is it Sam? Is he-?”

“He’s fine,” Jon assured her, pushing to his feet.

He regretted calling for her so hurriedly, knowing that her mind would go to her husband first. Relief flitted across her face before she glanced past him and saw Sansa, still curled on the chair and watching them with round eyes.

“Oh,” Gilly said, stepping around him.

“This is Sansa,” Jon said, watching as she unfolded herself and pushed to her feet with a wince. “I… I hoped that you might…”

“Yes,” Gilly said, determination taking hold of her. “Come with me. We’ll take care of you.”

Sansa’s eyes darted to Jon, alarm in her gaze.

“I won’t leave,” he reminded her.

She nodded, pushing her hands into the pockets of his jacket as she followed Gilly through the door with Jon right on her heels.

* * *

He stayed tense and silent throughout Sansa’s visit, standing at her side as she relayed her medical history and went through each and every wound that needed care. Wounds that went far deeper than he even knew. Wounds and cuts in places he couldn’t see. He turned his back when it came time for her exam, listening to her breath hitch as Gilly and the doctor treated her as gently as they could.

Jon insisted that they call the department, knowing that he was too close to the case to handle it. No matter how much he wanted to be the one to bring this monster to justice. There was no only one thing that stood between them and an arrest, even with the photographic evidence that they now had. Sansa wouldn’t say a name. Fear filled her eyes and she withdrew into herself when Gilly asked.

He knew that it had to be done before the detectives got to the hospital or else they wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Once they were left alone to wait for the detectives, Sansa dressed in a set of scrubs and a sweater of Gilly’s, Jon glanced her way and saw her carefully plaiting her hair with a distant expression on her face.

“You can ask,” she said quietly, her voice laden with exhaustion. “You have every right. I dragged you into this.”

“I’m not going to make you talk about anything,” Jon refused, leaning his back against the wall.

Sansa glanced his way, her eyes darting over him before she looked away again.

“He found my birth control,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My friend helped me get it. She always tried to get me to report him but… well she insisted that I take it. He found it and he threw it all away. Then he-”

Sansa cut off, shaking her head as a pained look came over her face. The bruises on her thighs more than told the rest of the story. Jon didn’t have to hear it. His jaw tightened as he focused on keeping his breathing steady, choosing to marvel at her strength instead of letting his anger at a faceless man overtake him.

“I couldn’t let him do that to me,” she said, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes once more. “I just-I couldn’t let him tie me to him in that way. I waited until he was asleep and I-I ran. I couldn’t even breathe. I don’t remember putting on shoes. I just remember focusing on one thing. I had to find a pill.”

Jon could fill in the rest himself. As she pressed her face into her hands and let out a shuddering sob, he crossed the room and carefully wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

“They would be so ashamed of me,” Sansa cried, her body heaving with her sobs. “Mother and-and Father and Robb. They would…”

She turned her face, muffling her cries into his shirt once more. Jon let her, pressing kisses to her hair.

“They wouldn’t,” he assured her, knowing that beyond a shadow of a doubt. “They would be blown away by your strength, Sansa. I know that I am.”

Sansa didn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, letting her emotions flow as he simply held her. As her tears finally slowed and her body began to tremble less, she turned her head and sniffled, wiping at her face with the sleeve of the sweater she wore.

“I don’t ever want to see him again,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” Jon said with certainty. “Never again. You just… you have to tell us his name, Sansa. We can’t do anything unless you-”

“Ramsay Bolton.”

He jolted at her words, realizing that she’d finally admitted to it. Relief quickly followed, that they could do something about it now. Then he realized why she must have been so desperate to keep it to herself. The Bolton name wasn’t quite as well known as the Starks but the family had their share of notoriety and skeletons in their closet. As much as he wanted to know how Sansa could wind up entangled with one of them, Jon knew that was a story for another time.

“I won’t ever let him touch you again,” he promised.

Sansa didn’t say anything, simply pressing closer to him. Jon had to hope that meant she believed him, because the words rang truer than any he’d ever spoken before. 


	42. Canon AU - Feelings Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post parentage reveal and pre battle with the White Walkers where Sansa is the first out of the two to admit her feelings

It wasn’t easy, tripping and stumbling her way through the dark godswood. Sansa knew the way to the heart tree well but with the stench of blood and fire filling her nose and her mind still grappling with all that had happened that night, including the confrontation with her own ancestors, it took all she had to make her way through the trees.

Only the dimmest glow of firelight drew her in, relief unfurling in her chest as she hurried towards it, hitching her skirts up so that she could run. Stumbling into the clearing, a sharp sigh passed her lips once she saw Arya and Bran there, both alive conversing quietly. At her approach, their heads turned and even Bran looked consoled by the sight of her.

Then Sansa saw the bodies.

Ironborn and northmen alike, all fallen in defense of her brother. She searched their faces with a racing heart, her mind going blank as soon as she spotted him. Distantly, she heard Arya call her name as she staggered to him, her throat constricting as she fell on his knees at his side. His eyes were open and unseeing, blood running from his mouth to his chin and tears still wet on his cheeks.

Sansa reached up but could not bring herself to touch him as her eyes stung and her lower lip trembled. Both hands hovered over his chest, her chest rising and falling quickly as breathing became difficult. A choked sob slipped from her lips as she shook her head, closing her eyes as if it would make it all go away. As if she’d open them and Theon would be alive again.

A heartbroken wail fell from her lips when she opened her eyes and saw him still lying there. For all that they’d been through, both apart and together, she deserved to see him live after this. He deserved more time. A chance to see Winterfell rebuilt. To share in their victory, as bitter as it seemed. A chance to see his sister again and to visit the sea once more.

Shouts rose up in the distance, one voice rising above the rest, calling out her name. Sansa didn’t even hear it, shaking her head as trembling cries rose from deep within her chest and filled the air. She couldn’t remember the last time that she cried this way. Perhaps in the solitude of her chambers after they buried Rickon in the crypts.

A hand brushed at her shoulder and she shrank away without thinking. Comfort wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to hear pity or apologies for this loss. She didn’t want it to be a loss at all. It quite simply couldn’t be true. Not when she’d sat with him mere hours ago, sharing soft words and small smiles over hot soup.

Branches cracked and leaves crunched beneath running footsteps and she barely heard whoever it was stagger over to her. A scuffle as Arya embraced him then a murmur of her name as he knelt at her side. Sansa leaned away from him, finally letting her hands fall to Theon’s chest. There was no movement. No rise and fall that suggested life remained in his body.

“We-we have to do something,” she choked out, pressing her hands more firmly to him. “He has to… I-I can’t… _please.”_

Her words hitched out of her between sobs as tears slipped down her cheeks endlessly. Jon reached out to touch her elbow, trying to guide her towards him.

“Sansa-”

“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head more vehemently. “No, this cannot… I won’t allow it. There has to be something. Something I can do.”

“There’s not,” Jon said quietly.

She let out a wrenching sob, tipping forward until her forehead pressed over Theon’s unbeating heart. Words failed her as she simply cried, letting out every emotion she’d kept buried deep inside over the last several years. Tears of anguish, rage, and hopelessness falling from her eyes as she screamed out her agony as loud as she could, refusing to silence herself.

Sansa was barely aware of two sets of hands pulling her away, guiding to her feet as she weakly tried to struggle away. Arya and Jon were insistent, turning her around until she found herself pressed close into his side, her head cradled against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm firmly around her waist. The creak of Bran’s chair followed them, Arya guiding it through the godswood as Jon led her along.

“We can’t leave him there,” Sansa cried, trying to look back only for Jon to quietly assure her that they wouldn’t.

“We’ll take care of him,” he promised.

Sansa let her head fall to his shoulder, her body shaking as she stumbled alongside him, knowing that she couldn’t walk alone even if she tried.

“I’m so tired of loss.”

Jon’s breath hitched at her words, his head tilting towards hers as he hesitated just outside of the godswood.

“You need rest,” he told her gently.

Sansa lifted her head to look in his eyes, realizing that beneath all of the grief, she felt relieved that he was alive as well, though bloodied and exhausted.

“We all do,” she said.

It was the last she spoke that night, allowing him to guide her to her chambers and barely shedding her cloak before she fell into her bed, wetting her pillow with her tears for a long time before a troubled sleep swept her away.

*****

She woke to the sound of soft breaths and low humming. Sansa sat up slowly, her body aching and her eyes still burning from all the crying she did. Sweeping her gaze over the room, she spotted a familiar face loading more wood into the fire. Confusion filled her as she began to push the furs away before her attention fell on yet another person.

Jon had dragged a chair over to the bed and he sat slumped in it, his head tilted down towards his chest as he slept. Her heart flipped as she stared at him, unable to quite understand why he was there. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gilly straighten up and take notice of her, a surprised noise coming from her. Looking her way, Sansa had to hope that her face betrayed her confusion because she couldn’t find her voice.

“I asked if it’d be alright,” she said quietly, walking over to the bed after offering a wobbling curtsy. “Sam said you’d likely not mind but I know that… well, your handmaiden…”

Sansa inhaled sharply, remembering the screams as the dead rose and dug out of their resting places. Of course, she’d forgotten until now that her lady’s maid was among the fallen.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice hoarse as she felt the rawness of her throat.

“He’s been here for hours, far as I know,” Gilly said, nodding to Jon. “Wouldn’t hear of resting anywhere else. Not that I’m surprised. He ran about like a madman when we came out of the crypts, shouting your name and stopping anyone that might know where you were. It was Sam that told him you’d passed by on your way to the godswood. He thought you might be dead till then. The thought of it tore him right apart.”

Her eyes grew wide as Sansa stared at her, grappling with the new information.

“Sorry, milady,” she muttered, bowing her head. “I ramble when my nerves get to me. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Sansa shook her head, casting her eyes towards Jon again before looking back at her.

“Go, be with your son.”

Relief passed over Gilly’s face and she nodded, turning away. Pausing at the door, she looked back towards Jon.

“He’s a good man,” she said, nodding at him. “He’s deserved this rest for a long time.”

Sansa watched her go before looking to Jon again. After a long time simply staring at him, she carefully slipped from her bed and rose on unsteady feet, reaching out to shake at his shoulder. He woke quickly, inhaling sharply as he jerked up, his hand going to the sword that was no longer strapped to his belt.

“Peace,” Sansa said quietly, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “It’s only me.”

Jon’s eyes fixed upon her, wild with fear and intensity. Slowly, it faded away until he let out a quiet sigh and reached up to rub at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Sansa shook her head, refusing to hear it. Drawing him in close, she buried her face in his neck as she wound her arms around him, needing to both give and receive comfort in that moment. He embraced her in return without hesitation.

“Come lie down,” she whispered after a few moments.

Jon stiffened slightly, pulling away to give her a wary look.

“That’s not…”

“I don’t care,” Sansa said, shaking her head as she pushed away any worries over impropriety. “I don’t want to be alone and I won’t allow you to stiffen your back in that chair.”

Jon looked no less hesitant as she drew him towards the bed but he relented, lying uncomfortably atop the furs. Sansa didn’t argue, finding it hard to even keep herself moving as she laid at his side. After a moment, she reached between them to take his hand, twining her fingers with his.

“Don’t leave me,” she said in a shuddering whisper.

Jon didn’t answer right away, only squeezing her hand after a moment. Then, as her eyes slipped closed, she heard his quiet murmur.

“Never."


	43. Canon AU - Sansa comes to Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still taking prompts, I’d love to see a post parentage reveal and pre battle with the White Walkers where Sansa is the first out of the two to admit her feelings. A sort of ‘the world is ending so it’s now or never, by the I’m madly in love with you’ kind of deal.

She rapped her knuckles against the door as lightly as she could manage, closing her eyes and bracing herself for silence to answer her knock. There was every chance that he was with Daenerys, spending the last few moments before battle in her warm, beautiful embrace. He assured her that it was all for the North, for the sake of their people, but Sansa couldn’t imagine any man refusing the chance to warm the Dragon Queen’s bed. Especially if there was every chance he may die. Yet she heard him call for her to enter, heard him shuffle about on the other side of the thick door.

There was a part of her that ached to flee. To change her mind and run far and fast before he could see her. But instead, she took a deep breath and smoothed out her skirts carefully before opening the door, her eyes catching on him as soon as she stepped through. He stood near the window, his armor laid out on the table as he slowly donned each piece. As his eyes lifted, surprise rose in the dark depths and his lips parted slightly as if her name might slip through them. Yet he didn’t say a word. Sansa could hardly blame him for his astonishment. Every interaction between them had been tense, to say the least, since he returned from the south. 

She wanted to blame it on the sense of betrayal that churned her stomach when Daenerys stood so close to him. Or on the knowledge that everything was different now that he was her cousin, not her half-brother. In truth, his parentage brought her a measure of relief. A relief that drove her here, to this door, knowing that this may well be the last time she saw him. Sansa did not know what to say. How to excuse her presence. So she strode forward instead, keeping her chin tipped upwards and her eyes fixed on him. Jon half-turned towards her as if he expected either a smack or an embrace. Sansa gave him neither, taking the role of squire as she began helping him into his armor.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, even as she tightened straps and adjusted the pieces.

She swallowed hard, relieved to have a task that she could focus upon.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “I just… I…”

Sansa trailed off, glancing up into his eyes. Jon stared back at her, something indefinable in his gaze. They both grew still, caught in the moment. In each other’s eyes. In the inexplicable tension that rose between them every time they were in a room together. It hadn’t always been this way. The truth of his parentage stirred something up between them. Something unspoken and dangerous. More dangerous than anything she knew.

“I’m glad you came,” Jon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sansa’s eyes flitted over his face, trying to find something there. An answer. A reciprocation. Anything that might tell her how he felt beyond vague platitudes. He didn’t give away anything, his emotions shuttered away from her. So she offered him a simple nod and returned to her task, making sure everything was fastened just right.

“How do you know how to armor a man?” Jon asked.

A ghost of a smile passed over her lips as she crossed to his other side.

“My skills are quite varied, in case you hadn’t noticed."

A beat of silence passed before he answered.

“I have.”

A shiver of _something_ curled up her spine as Sansa inhaled deeply, wondering if she was simply imagining the fervor in his voice. If her heart craved his requited love so much that she’d hear it whether it existed or not. Stepping away from him, her eyes fell to the final piece. Jon reached out to take hold of his sword belt. Sansa gazed at the Valyrian steel blade, brushing her fingers over the direwolf that topped the pommel. _Protect him_ , she prayed silently, to both the sword she touched and the direwolf that it was fashioned after. When Jon’s hand brushed over hers, she lifted her head and caught his gaze once more. He stared back at her, his eyes filled with caution and sorrow. They both knew from the moment that the horn sounded that this could be the end. Sansa had already made her peace with the others that she loved. This was her last stop. Her last chance.

“You must return,” she whispered, almost too afraid to speak them loudly, as if the gods would see it as a challenge.

Jon blinked slowly, a heaviness settling over his face. Sansa knew that he wouldn’t say anything. That he wouldn’t promise her. Not when fate could very well break that promise without caring for what either of them wanted. Instead, he lifted his hand, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. His thumb stroked at her cheek as she closed her eyes, relishing in the simplest touch.

“Sansa…” Jon breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open again but she didn’t get a chance to hear what he would say. Another horn sounded and she flinched at the sound, knowing what it meant. A call to arms. It was time. He pressed his lips together, giving her a nod and grabbing Longclaw to fasten it at his waist. Sansa watched with stinging eyes, clasping her hands in front of her as her heart raced.

“I love you.”

Jon stilled once more, his head bowed and his body rigid, thrown by the suddenness of her confession. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to regret it. The consequences didn’t matter. Not now. Not when their world could very well end this night.

“I had to tell you,” she said, taking a step away from him.

Then she turned, knowing that she couldn’t bear seeing any trace of rejection or disgust upon his face. But Sansa didn’t even make it to the door before his hand seized upon her arm, spinning her around with a gasp. Any words that rose in her throat were forgotten as soon as she felt the press of his lips to hers. Sansa lifted her hands to his shoulders without a second thought, returning the kiss in kind. It lasted forever and yet ended far too soon, their eyes colliding once more as they both breathed heavily. Jon’s eyes seemed set ablaze, holding hers with an intensity that snatched her heart right out of her chest. If she had any doubt that it belonged to him before, it was gone now. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to hope, not when she knew that death knocked on Winterfell’s gates even as they stood there, still entangled in one another.

“Do you understand?” Jon asked, his voice rough and desperate.

Sansa stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head.

“I do.”

He looked far from satisfied but it would just have to be enough. Sansa stepped aside, lifting her trembling fingers to brush over her lips, watching as he took a deep breath before allowing himself one final look. He held her gaze for a few seconds before nodding once. Then he was gone, his footsteps fading away as she stood there, fixed in place and trying to hold onto the memory of his kiss. It may be his last gift to her and she refused to let it fade from her mind.


	44. Canon AU - After the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon discovers Alys' dead body burned by dragon fire and thinks it's Sansa's because of her hair and her unrecognizable facial features.

The first thing that he saw as he stumbled into the godswood, body aching with exhaustion and sword held loosely in his hand, was the still, bloodied form of Theon Greyjoy. An unexpected sadness struck at his chest. A feeling of mourning, for the boy he grew up with and the man that came back around to who he was meant to be. He deserved to be mourned. Jon hoped that he found peace. Then the moonlight breaking through the trees above dimly illuminated a spill of auburn hair across the forest floor.

And Jon’s heart seized in his chest.

She wasn’t meant to be there. He knew that she insisted on standing with the archers along the battlements for as long as she could but Arya promised him that she’d convince Sansa to go to the crypts if the fighting got too close to the castle. Not here. Longclaw slipped between his fingers as he stared and stared at that hair, matted with blood and filth, and even singed by fire. It was all wrong. She shouldn’t have been there, lying on the cold earth, still in death.

The roar in his ears was as loud as any that the dragons uttered. Jon couldn’t bring himself to move, froze in place as dark spots edged at the corner of his vision from the air his lungs refused to breathe in. Then something collided with him hard, sending him stumbling as hands seized his shoulders and grey eyes so much like his own locked him in an intense stare. They were speaking, or perhaps even shouting, but their words were distant and muddled as if he was hearing it all underwater.

Arya shook him hard as his eyes darted to the blood that trickled down her temple. Awareness slowly crept back in and Jon forced himself to inhale, his burning chest expanding as his body swayed on the spot. She kept him upright, looking close to outright slapping him. Then he looked to the body lying a few feet away and Arya followed the path of his gaze, flinching before understanding dawned on her face as she realized what he saw.

“It’s… Karstark… not… the crypts… look at… breathe… Jon… fucking dammit!”

Her fists slammed into his chest, jolting him back to reality all at once.

“Sansa,” Jon gasped, trying to dart around her.

“She’s in the crypts,” Arya all but yelled, moving to block his way. “She’s safe.”

Jon looked at her, truly looked, and saw the wetness on her pale cheeks and the way that her body trembled. Then he reached for her, yanking her into his arms. Arya crushed herself to him, burying her face in his chest as her hands gripped at him. Tucking his cheek against her head, Jon stared past her towards the heart tree, where Bran sat still alive and breathing. He gave a slow nod, telling Jon everything that he needed to know without even speaking.

“You did it, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

Arya shuddered before pulling away to look at him, her eyes wet with tears. At that moment more than any other, she looked more like the young girl he knew, all those years ago.

“I was almost too late,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jon reached up, cupping the back of her head gently.

“You saved us all.”

A smile broke out on Arya’s face as her shoulders slumped like a burden had been lifted away by his words.

“We need to find Sansa,” she said, stepping back. “She’ll want to know that we’re alright.”

Jon nodded, swallowing hard and stepping around her to walk to Bran. He glanced at what he now knew to be Alys Karstark’s body. Jon felt guilty for the relief he felt, knowing that she deserved to live just as much as every other person. He pushed the thoughts aside, knowing that there would be time to mourn in the coming days. Bran remained quiet as they made their way through the darkness, Arya leading them without a hitch in her step.

A scene of quiet chaos greeted them once they reached the courtyard. Some were embracing friends or family while others sat alone to contemplate everything that happened that night. There were tears of grief and smiles of shared survival all around. Jon exhaled a sigh of relief when he spotted Sam clutching at Gilly and little Sam with all the desperation of a man that faced death and lived. The feeling was short-lived, however, when he saw the blood on Gilly’s face.

It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have been harmed at all. Jon felt his panic return, constricting his lungs and pulling a choked noise from his throat. Arya looked his way with wide eyes as he twisted around, searching for the others that sought refuge in the crypts. There were fewer than there should have been. Women and children that looked equally battle-worn to those that fought above. Tyrion and Varys weaved through the fallen and the living with weary looks on their faces.

Tyrion had scratches down his cheek and his clothing was askew. A dragonglass dagger was still gripped in his hand as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let it go. Jon let go of Bran’s chair, stumbling over to them desperately. He almost couldn’t bring himself to speak, reading the uncertainty on their own faces as he neared. They would have their own questions. Who survived and how did it end? Jon didn’t have the patience to answer any of them. He only wanted to know one thing.

“Where is Sansa?”

Tyrion stepped forward, finally letting the dagger fall to the ground.

“The crypts,” he said, familiar exhaustion in his words. “Last I saw her.”

Jon didn’t linger, setting off at a run without a thought for his own weariness. He was prepared to sprint through each passage of the crypts without hesitation but stumbled to a stop at the sight of a crumpled figure several feet outside of the door. She sat against the wall, her face in her hands and her vibrant hair spilling around her shoulders. At the sound of his approach, she looked up with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

Her eyes flitted over him quickly as he did the same to her, taking in the rumpled state of her dress, the cut on her chin, and the haunted terror still written into her bright eyes. He’d never seen her so undone and she’d never looked so beautiful to him. Her face crumpled as she looked away from him towards the crypt door, to the grooves scratched into the heavy wood by desperate fingers.

Sansa pressed a hand over her mouth as a choked sob rose in her throat. Jon knelt next to her quickly, lifting his hand to carefully tilt her face towards him. Sansa collapsed into him, her head dropping to his shoulder as her body shook with the force of her cries. He didn’t say anything as every beat of his heart rejoiced that she was alive. Jon held her close and pressed kisses into her hair, wishing that he could have spared her whatever happened in the crypts.

“I-I heard them,” she choked out, squeezing her eyes shut. “They screamed for mercy, for someone to let them through the door. I listened as they died. I should have… I _could_ have done something. I could have saved them.”

“Or you would have died,” Jon said quietly, knowing now where those scratches came from.

Sansa shuddered in his arms and turned her face into his shoulder before speaking.

“The dead rose,” she gasped out.

All at once, Jon realized exactly what must have happened. The Night King raising his arms, summoning every fallen fighter to join his army. It never occurred to him that the same might happen in the crypts. How horrible it must have been, to be faced with generations of Starks rising from their resting places to attack those who should have been safe. It hadn’t been his idea to send the non-fighters to the crypts but Jon should have known better. He should have warned them.

“Gods,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Sansa.”

She shook her head, pressing even closer to him.

“You’re here,” she murmured, clutching at his jerkin. “You’re alive.”

Jon dropped his face into her hair, breathing her in as he let his eyes fall closed.

“We both are.”


	45. Canon AU - Married Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonsa fluffy once they’re married as king and queen in the north please.

With half a dozen rousing toasts still ringing in her ears and a smile still playing about her lips, Sansa found herself wandering through the dim corridors of Winterfell long after the feast ended. She expected that Jon would call upon her once he saw the free folk out to their tents beyond the walls of Winterfell but time passed and his knock never came. Sansa found him in the Great Hall, seated at one of the lower tables with his crown laid in front of him. His hand rubbed at his forehead and his shoulders slumped in an indication of his undoubtedly solemn thoughts. Her slippers quieted her steps yet he still tilted his head towards her, ever the alert warrior. Sansa reached out as she neared him, laying her hand gently over his shoulder.

“I can think of far warmer places to brood,” she said, the unlit braziers allowing a chill to fill the hall and seep through the fine dress she had yet to shed.

Even though she couldn’t see his expression, Sansa could tell that Jon pulled a face at her words as his hand lowered to the table.

“I’m not brooding.”

“Contemplating your future, then?” she asked, amusement lingering at the edge of her words. “The King in the North once more.”

Jon let out a low, nonsense grumble, clearly wanting no reminder of it. Leaning down with a smile pulling at her lips, Sansa lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I do not think that you can shed the title so easily this time.”

Jon reached up to clasp her hand, bringing it over his shoulder to brush a kiss along her knuckles.

“A burden I can easily bear with a queen at my side,” he said, turning in his seat to look up at her.

His dark eyes flitted to her auburn hair, where a crown of her own sat nestled there for most of the night, now left to sit upon her vanity. Sansa gave him a tender look, brushing his dark curls out of his eyes.

“You say that as if you won’t sneak off to the training yard every chance you get,” she said, teasing him lightly. “I think you are perhaps the one man in Westeros who is all too willing to give your wife the power, if only to be left alone.”

Sansa expected him to scoff and roll his eyes or perhaps even laugh. Instead, his eyes grew soft and his lips parted just slightly. As if she had a window into his mind, she felt as though she knew his thoughts. Married in the godswood and crowed as King and Queen in the North all within a fortnight. More than enough to feel overwhelmed and yet she felt all too relaxed here.

“My wife,” Jon murmured, reaching out to take hold of her hip, guiding her to sit on the table in front of him as he scooted his chair back. “I’d be the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms if I granted you every scrap of power I could. You’re better suited to it than I.”

Sansa pressed her lips together, pressing her palm over his cheek.

“It’s not power I want, Jon.”

He tilted his head into her hand, a look of contentment chasing the stress from his face.

“Lemon cakes, then,” Jon said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “As many as I can find.”

Sansa gave him an affectionate shake of her head, leaning down to brush a kiss over his lips.

“My home, my family…” she said, pulling away briefly only to kiss him again. “… and you.”

Jon gazed up at her, something like awe in the depths of his eyes.

“That is all?” he asked.

Sansa gave him a nod.

“That is all.”

Jon smiled at her, a true smile that had been missing from his face as of late. Sansa loved the sight of it, hoping that he found reasons to smile that way every day of his life from here on out.

“There is only one thing that might make me happier,” she told him.

Jon tilted his head questioningly as she slipped from the table, reaching back to take hold of his crown.

“My husband in my bed.”

Sansa reached her hand out as she stood, waiting for him to take it. Though it took some time to find their way to their chambers, she couldn’t bring herself to complain. For a kiss was far better than a smile and a dozen of them chased any thought of cold from her mind.


	46. Canon AU - soft!Dad Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every pregnancy, Jon talks to the baby when he climbs into bed at night with Sansa.

She sat at her vanity running a brush through her hair as he undressed, humming contentedly until he bent over the back of her chair and titled her head for a soft kiss. Only then did she let him lead her to the bed, reclining against the pillows he’s propped up himself and tilting her head back with a relieved sigh, happy to be off of her very swollen feet. It’s the same thing every night, though it never fails to bring a smile to her face.

“Hello, little one,” Jon murmured, laying one large, warm hand over her belly as he lies at her side, propped up on his elbow.

Some nights, he was rewarded with a kick against his hand. Other times, like tonight, Sansa feels a simple flurry of movement before their babe stilled again.

“He’s tired,” she said softly, reaching up to card her fingers through his hair.

“ _She_ ,” Jon corrected her with a wry smile, turning his head to press a kiss to her wrist.

“He,” Sansa said with a tired grin of her own.

It was a familiar exchange, one that they’d had since the evening when she told him she was with child. It took him only days to begin this routine, refusing to spend a single night away from the castle so that he could lie here and speak whatever came to mind.

“ _I’ll have her know my voice_ ,” he’d said quite seriously when Sansa laughingly asked what he was doing the first night he laid hands upon her still flat stomach and began speaking.

Now his voice could lull her to sleep, though she struggled against it for she longed to hear his words even more than their child. It was never the same, no matter how many nights they did it. Jon always found new things to speak of, whether they be old stories of the North, memories of their family, or tales of his own ventures at and beyond the Wall.

“What are you going to tell him tonight?” she asked, stifling a yawn as she let her eyes slip closed.

“I’m going to tell _her_ about the most beautiful queen these lands have ever seen,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. “With hair of fire and eyes like the ocean.”

Sansa’s cheeks grew warm as she tugged at his hair teasingly.

“You’re quite the romantic, Your Grace,” she said, unable to keep from smiling herself.

“How else was I to win the attentions of such a fair maiden?” he said, stroking a thumb over her belly.

Sansa played with the curls at the back of his neck, letting out a contented sigh as she snuggled further into the pillows.

“You only ever had to be yourself,” she said softly.

Though she didn’t see the tender look he sent her way, she could imagine it well enough in her mind just before he began softly telling the tale of how she rallied the Vale soldiers to help her take back Winterfell from the Boltons. She slipped off to sleep at the sound of his voice, knowing they had many more nights together to come.


	47. Canon AU - Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone suggesting a political marriage between Jon and Sansa after RLJ is common knowledge, and after that, when they're alone, they confess their feelings for one another.

They wed in the shadow of the Red Keep, kneeling together before the heart tree. A crown of flowers sat upon Sansa’s unbound hair and a cloak of white and grey upon her shoulders. Between them, her hand lay delicately over his as they pronounced the rites in time with the High Septon. They’d both sworn vows before, yet none quite like these. As they swore themselves to one another, so did they swear themselves to the realm.

The King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Sansa rose when she knew it was time, staring forward as Jon unclasped her maiden’s cloak and sweeping her hair over her shoulder when he replaced it with his own. She began to turn yet stilled in place as he gently rearranged her flame bright hair until it spilled about her shoulders once more, a contrast against the black of his cloak. Only then did they face one another, their hands joining between them.

She remembered how the nobles and smallfolk alike cheered when Margaery wed Joffrey in the Great Sept of Baelor. It was a quiet murmur and polite applause that rose up about them as Jon pressed a kiss to her lips. Royal matches were not so easily accepted now, after everything, even by highborn nobles that were relieved to see an end to the war and a union between two people that helped that end come to pass.

Yet wedding rites were far better than funeral rites and it was with that spirit that the day went on and the mood improved. A feast awaited them in the keep, with far less than seventy-seven courses yet no danger of a temperamental monarch looming about everyone’s heads. Sansa kept Jon’s cloak about her shoulders even with a brazier nearby, rising for every toast and sharing smiles with every lord and lady.

Little affection passed between the newly wedded pair, though it came as no surprise to any who observed them. It was a difficult situation, to lose all that they had and come together only to heal the wounds of a realm and unite the north and south once more. Having grown as siblings and reunited after living a lifetime worth of pain and misery in a handful of years, none blamed them for a wary disposition when it came to one another.

Once the hour was late and men began to tire, shouts for a bedding began only to cease when the king stood with a severe look in his eye. And if anyone left dared to approach the queen with lecherous intentions in mind, they were quickly discouraged by the presence of her bladed sister and her steadfast shield, both women who would spill blood without hesitation to defend the honor of Sansa Stark.

“A toast,” the queen said, her voice soft yet strong as she rose to her feet and lifted her cup. “To peace in Westeros.”

The tension dissipated entirely as hundreds rose to their feet, benches scraping and cheers echoing about them.

“To peace!”

“To Westeros!”

“To Queen Sansa!”

“To King Jon!”

As everyone drank joyfully from their cups, Jon offered his hand to Sansa and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her away. The noise of the feast faded as they wound up steps and crossed corridors until they reached her chambers. Only there did Jon hesitate, his sure steps faltering as his hand hovered over the door. Sansa’s hand slipped from his, squeezing at his arm as she reached out with the other, pushing the door open with a creak.

“My king,” she said in a quiet whisper, drawing his eyes to her.

Sansa held his gaze for a moment before moving forward, drawing him into the room at her heels without needing to touch him. Even as he shut and latched the door, his eyes remained fixed upon her. Her slender hands unclasped the cloak she wore and Sansa took every care to drape it over a chair in the outer chamber, lingering there for longer than necessary as she smoothed it out.

“It’s well made,” Jon said, searching for something to say as he still hovered near to the door. “Your skill is impressive.”

Her head lifted and she offered him a small smile, a pleased light in her eyes.

“A small achievement, I suppose, in the wake of your many deeds,” Sansa said, clasping her hands before her.

Jon huffed, shaking his head as he took several steps further into the room.

“Well I can’t stitch to save my bloody life, nor any other’s,” he admitted, undoing the topmost clasp of his doublet.

“Don’t let the lords out there hear you say that,” Sansa said, a teasing sound to her voice. “They think you capable of anything.”

“And they know that your talents extend far beyond embroidery. As do I.”

Color rose to her cheeks as she turned her head to hide her smile. Jon couldn’t help but watch her as she made her way to the table in the corner to pour out two cups of wine. She took a healthy sip of her own before crossing over to him once more, holding out the other.

“Another toast?” he asked, their fingers brushing as he reached out to take it.

Sansa looked up at him, an odd look in the depths of her eyes.

“There are those who still fear instability,” she said, tracing her thumb over the rim of her cup. “They think that a distant marriage between king and queen is as dangerous as a conqueror with three dragons.”

“Clearly they never saw the dragons,” Jon quipped.

The corner of her lips tugged upwards just slightly, though she allowed him little more in response to his jape.

“Let them have their peace,” Sansa said, looking down at her cup briefly before meeting his gaze again. “What we have will be ours alone.”

Jon’s lips parted at her words, a desperation blooming within him, to ask what she meant. To speak the truth of what they had, for he suspected but he’d been wrong before about so many things. It was better to hear something explicitly than assume that he had the right of it.

“To us,” Sansa said before he could speak a word, lifting her cup just slightly higher.

Jon swallowed his words and nodded slowly, aware of his own cup in his hand.

“To us,” he repeated.

They drank at once, their gazes never dropping away from one another. It was a tense yet strangely intimate moment. Sansa licked a drop of wine from the corner of her mouth and Jon wished rather ardently to have done it himself. Before he could think twice about it, he reached out and wrapped an arm about her waist, tugging her in close.

Sansa’s gasp filled the air yet she did not shove him away, her free hand bracing upon his shoulder as she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. When his lips descended upon hers, she didn’t hesitate to arch into him and respond in kind. Their wine splashed over their hands as they fumbled to set it down, needing far more than one hand each to fully enjoy the feeling of their bodies aligning so perfectly.

As his tongue traced the seam of her lips, Sansa’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly and drawing a groan from his throat. They stumbled towards the bedchamber, bumping against furniture and the door frame until they made it through and began frantically unlacing whatever clothing came between them. As Jon wrenched away from her, touching his forehead to her own, his words came out between heavy breaths as she undid his doublet.

“Gods, I love you,” he spoke true, his fingers getting caught in the laces of her dress. “Is-is that what you-”

“Yes,” Sansa said, nodding her head eagerly as she shoved the doublet down his arms and tossed it away.

Jon nearly caught her in his arms to begin kissing her again but she turned around before he could, giving him a better view of the laces on her dress. He nearly began searching for a knife to cut them with as he fumbled around but finally managed to loosen them enough for the dress to slip from her shoulders. Sansa shoved it to the ground and barely kicked it away before turning around to fit herself into his arms once more.

“Show me,” she said, pressing one kiss after another to his lips. “Love me, Jon.”

He guided her towards the bed, untucking his tunic and yanking it over his head before laying her down. Her hair splayed out over the furs, her shift a thin barrier between them as Jon hovered over her with awe in his eyes.

“You’re my queen,” he breathed.

Sansa cupped the back of his head, her eyes bright and hot with desire as she brought him down for another kiss, allowing him to settle in the cradle of her hips.

“I’m yours,” she whispered against his lips.

Her shift quickly joined his tunic and the rest of their clothing followed as they lost themselves in each other. Time passed without their knowledge. It could have been minutes or hours before Sansa found herself lying beside him on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and shamelessly naked as she traced the scars upon his chest and abdomen.

“I suppose we are good at that, if nothing else,” she said, her eyes shining with mirth.

Jon let out a huff of laughter, reaching out to wrap a tendril of her hair about his finger.

“You’ll be good at plenty,” he said, sounding as certain as she’d ever heard him. “It won’t be long before the rest of the world sees it and prefers you on the throne over me.”

Sansa pushed up to brush a kiss over his lips, silencing his doubts.

“We do this together, my love,” she corrected him as she pulled away, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

Jon nodded, pulling her closer to his side with an arm about her waist.

“Together.”


	48. Canon AU - Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy lazy jonsa morning sex

He doesn’t know what draws him from sleep until he hears the low whine from the other side of the bed. Twisting carefully beneath his furs, not wanting to bother her if she is still asleep, Jon turns to face her and his breath catches in his throat at the picture of utter perfection that she makes. Bathed in pale golden light from the window, her pale skin glows and her flame-bright hair tumbles unbound around her shoulders.

She lays on her stomach, hands hidden beneath her pillow and the furs pushed down to her waist. Her head is tilted away from the window, giving him the chance to admire the sweep of dark lashes over her cheeks and the perfect bow of her pretty pink lips. There is a light dusting of freckles over her nose from afternoons spent riding through the wolfswood or handing out food in nearby villages.

As Jon resists the urge to reach out to her, another soft noise falls from her lips. A whimper that stirs worry in his chest, for he knows the nightmares that occasionally plague her sleeping mind. Then she shifts as her hand grasps at the pillow and her hips rock in a telling motion, and Jon feels slow-burning heat spread through him at once. His hand trembles as he reaches out, brushing his fingers ever-so-lightly along the length of her spine.

She shudders and sighs beneath his touch, gooseflesh breaking out over her bare skin as he delights in the flush of her cheeks. He sweeps her hair aside, shifting over on the bed to brush a kiss over her shoulder. Once his lips find her soft skin, he is lost to the need that arises in him. Once kiss after another, sweeping along her shoulder blade and counting every rib.

Jon maneuvers himself to hover over her, his palms digging into the mattress as he trails his lips down her spine. Just as he reaches the twin dimples at the small of her back, his name falls from her lips in the sweetest sigh that stirs the fire in his blood. Jon hums against her skin, retracing the same path with open-mouthed kisses that make her shiver beneath him, her body coming alive beneath his mouth.

“Jon,” Sansa whines, her hand slipping out from beneath the pillow to reach back towards him.

He takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers as he blankets his body over her own, holding just enough weight off of her so that she wouldn’t be crushed beneath him. A small gasp reaches his ears as he tilts his head, coaxing those pretty pink lips into a kiss as he rocks his hips against the furs, his cock throbbing with want. Sansa feels it, her hand clenching around his as she kisses him back with equal desire.

“Please,” she whispers against his lips.

Jon pulls away just enough to look into her eyes, relishing in her blown pupils.

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl,” he says, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

Sansa’s tongue darts out to lick her lips as if she savors the remnants of their kiss.

“Everything.”

Jon shifts until he lays on his side, his hand delving beneath the furs before she can complain. He brushes his fingers over the back of her thigh in a light enough touch to draw a giggle from her lips. His eyes crinkle at the corners as she wiggles beneath the touch, complaining that it tickles. The laughter fades at once when he takes hold of her leg just above the knee and urges her to bend it, hitching it up so that his fingers can seek out the treasure between her thighs.

She holds his gaze with her lower lip caught between his teeth as his fingers trail up her leg only for her eyes to flutter closed as he brushes her folds lightly. Her breaths come quicker as he dips his fingers into her wetness, stroking along the length of her cunt and teasing at her clit. Jon watches every minute change in expression with rapt attention, easing a finger into her as his thumb traces around and around her clit without giving her what she truly wants.

Sansa’s eyes open as he fits another finger alongside the first, working them in and out of her slowly. Staring deep into his eyes, she gives a slow rock of her hips and thrusts back against his hand, taking his fingers in deeper as his breath hitches. She gives a daring arch of her eyebrow only to gasp incredulously when he pulls his hand away, leaving her clenching around nothing at all.

“No,” she breathes, a tremor running through her as she moves to catch his hand.

He pulls it out from the furs before she can and she stares with wide eyes as he brings his fingers to his mouth to lick away every drop of her. Jon hums out his satisfaction, catching her wrist before she can sneak her hand beneath the furs to see to her own pleasure. Sansa barely manages a gasp of his name before he turns her over with little effort, all but ripping the furs from the bed in his desperate need to have her bared beneath him.

Jon slides to his belly between her thighs, taking hold of her hips to drag her down to his waiting mouth. Sansa should have known well enough to expect it. He never could content himself with a single taste. Her fingers delve into his hair almost right away, clutching at him as he licks the length of her cunt in slow, languid sweeps of his tongue. Nothing about his pace is hurried as he takes his time enjoying the soft whines and sighs that fall from her lips.

His name is a litany on her tongue by the time he presses two fingers into her once more, flicking his tongue teasingly over her clit. She grows taut as a strung bow, her thighs bracketing his head as she curls up beneath the intense sensations that he draws from her with ease. He can hear the sob in her throat as her walls flutter around his fingers, her body edging closer and closer to release.

He brings her over the edge with his tongue pressed flat over her clit and his fingers curled just right within her. Sansa arches from the bed, crying out as waves of pleasure roll over her in a slow, trembling peak. It seems to last forever and yet ends all too soon as he kisses her through it until she can’t bear it for another second, pushing at his head weakly until he relents.

Crawling up the length of her body, Jon wipes his mouth on the sheet that covers the mattress before capturing her lips in a kiss. As she tastes herself on his tongue, Sansa hitches a leg around his hip and draws him in close, her hand sneaking between them to take hold of his cock. He groans, his head dropping to her shoulder as she strokes it slowly, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Inside me, husband,” she whispers in his ear. “Please.”

Sansa guides him, her hand falling away and an abortive moan falling from her lips as he slowly presses into her. Inch by inch, slowly as he can, Jon fills her and tries to contain how his body shakes as she surrounds his cock with a tight, wet heat. Once he is fully seated within her, he stills to allow her a chance to grow used to the feeling. Though they coupled the previous night, Jon still feels the need to ensure she is not uncomfortable.

When she rocks her hips with a quiet sigh of his name, Jon eases into a slow, unhurried pace. His face is tucked into her shoulder, his hands braced on either side of her head as he loves his wife as deeply and thoroughly as he can manage. Sansa hugs him close to her, one hand stroking his hair as the other lays over a scar on his back. The air is filled with soft gasps and sweet whispers.

“Kiss me,” Sansa pleads.

He does, just as slowly and deeply as he makes love to her. His fingers tease at her nipples and snake down between them to stroke her clit, bringing her ever closer to another peak as he chases his pleasure too. The sun from the window grows brighter with the passing minutes, illuminating their sensual dance as the castle comes alive all around them.

They remain blissfully unaware of anything else, caught up in one another as their eyes meet and hold. Sansa tilts her hips to meet his thrusts, urging him on as his pace grows quicker. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach. Blazing heat coiling into a fist. Tighter and tighter and tighter until he finds himself on the edge, unable to hold up his head for a single second more.

His forehead presses to her shoulder as he chases his pleasure, her moans filling his ears as she clenches around him in the midst of a second peak. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, his lips pressed to her heated skin and his cock still thrusting into her as he spills. Sansa tilts her head towards him, pressing a kiss to his temple as he slows and eventually stops, working to catch his breath.

Before he can collapse on her and crush her, Jon slides his arms around her and keeps her close to his chest as he turns over onto his back, bringing her with him. Sansa has no argument, laying a hand over his heart as she curls into his side with her legs entangled with his. She lets out a contented sigh as he presses a kiss into her hair, her fingers dancing along his ribs and drawing a soft laugh from his lips.

“You were dreaming,” Jon says after a time, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

Sansa hums, stroking her foot along his calf as she presses even closer to him.

“About you,” she admits, her lips brushing over his skin. “Gilly told me it’s normal.”

A lazy smile pulls at his lips as his hand drifts down until he finds the swell of her belly.

“How very fortunate for me.”

Sansa huffs out a laugh, laying a soft smack on his chest. Jon accepts it without complaint, unable to chase away his smile as he holds his world in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think about any of these!


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